


30 Songs I Thought I Lost

by mobius_stripper



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection, all the AUs!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:31:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 36,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobius_stripper/pseuds/mobius_stripper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 Steve x Darcy one-shots in all the flavors of trope.  </p><p>21 - actor!Steve x behindthescenes!Darcy<br/>22 - trouble!Steve x evenmoreso!Bucky x workingitout!Darcy<br/>23 - noble!Steve x sexpollened!Darcy<br/>24 - oblivious!Steve x tryingtoohard!Darcy<br/>25 - not<em>that</em>oldfashioned!Steve x happilytakingadvantage!Darcy<br/>26 - secretboyfriend!Steve x jealous!Darcy<br/>27 - sad!Steve x secretagent!Darcy<br/>28 - savingtheworld!Steve x stubbornlysingle!Darcy<br/>29 - adjusting!Steve x throwback!Darcy<br/>30 - Steve x Darcy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I Was From Paris - Grace Potter & The Nocturnals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draw me like one of your French girls

Steve likes the student gallery, especially during summer break. It’s quiet and wild at the same time and the light is bright almost all day. All of the art is done by different people at different times during the year, so nothing goes together. He finds his skyline of Brooklyn next to a charcoal life drawing. The girl in the picture is seated on a backless stool, legs crossed. Most of her is in profile but her face is tilted away from the artist, leaving him with nothing but the tip of an ear. Steve has a sudden impulse to see more.

He walks the gallery, trying not to look like one of the creeps seeking out the naked pictures, even though he kind of is. None of it matters though because the rest of the life drawings are of a different girl, toned where his is soft, sharp, precise angles instead of rounded curves, and a shock of red hair that clearly left an impression on all the artists.  
Steve decides he can put off Pop Art for another year.

-

Miss Potts is the department chair and her fondness for Modern Art is well known. She gives the class a light smile.  
“Since you’ve fulfilled the requirements to get into this class, you must know by now realism isn’t my usual wheelhouse. However, Professor Stanley is on sabbatical and this is a rather self-driven course so I think I can handle it. Set up around that while I call in the model.”

She points to a tall wooden chair, alone in the empty studio. Steve grabs the least wobbly easel.

It’s the girl with the red hair, he is slightly disappointed to discover, and she is clearly a dancer. She moves the chair toward a gap in the circle and takes her position in the center, resting one hand on the wooden frame. Steve notes her bare feet are perfectly turned out.

The first ten minutes is gestures, and she slips between arches and arabesques with ease, holding them for the requisite two minutes without even a tremble. It’s amazing to see her muscles work, to find the lines of strength and put them to paper.  Her face though... she’s definitely a ballerina. She’s very pretty but her expression remains distant and vague.

The only time in the entire ninety minutes that she shows even a flicker of emotion is when Miss Potts thanks her as she ties off her robe.

-

The second session isn’t the girl, ‘his girl’ as he’s started thinking of her, but a Scandinavian Steve kind of remembers from freshman year. He’s very… comfortable in his own skin and Steve can’t really hold it against him.

-

The third class is the charm. His mystery girl strolls in, tying back her hair. She removes her glasses and gropes a little to find the pocket of the robe. Steve’s breath stutters when she shrugs out of her modesty and plops herself onto the stool. His pencil seems to move on its own, finding all kinds of details about her. A smattering of freckles, a wispy curl at the base of her neck that escaped her hasty ponytail, the jut of bones in her back.

Ninety minutes goes by in a heartbeat and then she stands and reaches for her robe. Steve tries to imagine a way of talking to her that doesn’t sound criminal and can’t think of any. She lets her hair down as she passes him, and then she’s gone. All he is left with is a whisper of vanilla.

-

The second time he draws her, he’s looking from the front. He draws everything and it’s not enough. He doesn’t want to draw her like this, he realizes.

Her eyes are unfocused, squinting at nothing in particular. Her mouth is lifeless, carefully relaxed so she can keep it still for the whole fifteen minutes. She breathes shallowly, in deference to the artists, but her breasts shift with each exhale and maybe Steve would be hypnotized if it didn’t all seem so mechanical.

-

He’s trying to figure out how to express the well-muscled man without making him look like a comic book character when he notices the splash of green in his peripheral vision.

“Um, hi?”

He turns. Green hat, brown eyes, black glasses, carmine lips.

“I think I left my iPod here yesterday.” She points at the office where the models change. The blinds are still drawn but Steve knows no one is in.

“It’s Stanley’s office, so right now only Potts has the keys.”

“Dammit. I just downloaded like thirty songs.”

He watches her chew on her cheek and is suddenly captured how alive she looks. “Can I draw you?” he blurts out.

She looks at him like he’s stupid. He probably is.

“You were drawing me yesterday. Like one of your French girls even.”

“I mean with your clothes on.”

She looks taken aback and flattered. “Interesting proposal. I get paid fifty bucks for each class. So, you wanna draw me outside of school hours, I’m going to need reimbursement. Coffee is good.”

-

Coffee is great.

Her name is Darcy, she uses cupcake body lotion, she’s as blind as a baseball bat without her glasses and she chooses her lipsticks based solely on the name. She smiles a lot, uncaring of the little gap in her teeth, she always has at least one earbud in her head and Steve is absolutely hooked.

He asks her to dinner while she’s slurping what’s left of her coffee. She chokes. He offers her the napkin he’s been doodling on. She takes it and presses it to her bubblegum pink mouth to muffle the coughing.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Dinner,” she reminds him. 

"Really?"

"Sure."  She takes the pen from his slack hand and writes her number on his napkin, underneath the bright pink lip print.  She leans over to tuck it into his shirt pocket.  "You've seen me naked twice.  Time to return the favor."


	2. Vagabond - MisterWives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's post-alien roadtrip is more dramatic than he probably planned it to be

Jane went to Norway.  She couldn't swing the money to get Darcy a plane ticket/hotel room, which is fine.  Who wants to go to Norway?  Still, it means she's kicking around at Culver trying not to feel useless. She's totally getting paid for it, but there's nothing to do. 

On the second day aliens come pouring out of the sky above New York and that's totally Thor right there.  She calls Jane over and over in the hours following the first newscast but she never picks up.  

Darcy doesn’t sleep for the next two days.  If aliens are coming through Einstein-Rosen bridges, then it's reasonable to think Jane and Jane’s work is about to become ground zero for another man-in-black attack. 

Jane _finally_ sends her an email saying she’s in New York because of Eric and SHIELD and wormholes and possibly Thor.  Darcy gathers from this that Jane is blissfully ignorant of the… she checks her phone… 92 missed calls.

Darcy decides she needs to leave Jane’s office because clearly the workaholic crazies have infected her now.

-

She’s walking (staggering with fatigue really) to the only place open 24/7 and somehow doesn’t notice the motorcycle; it certainly doesn’t notice her until it’s practically in her pocket.  To be fair, she’s wearing a grey sweater and dark wash jeans and this part of Virginia isn’t exactly known for its strict adherence to traffic safety at 1 in the morning.

She dives to the side of the road; her backpack slides up and bonks her in the head with her own laptop.  

The motorcycle's engine cuts immediately and the rider gets off to approach her.  Something about him triggers alarm bells and she doesn’t stop to think, she just hits him with the taser the second he's close enough.

He falls on his ass.

 

Nothing else happens.

 

“Shit, I guess you aren’t SHIELD, I’m sorry please don’t sue-”  

The guy actually takes his helmet off to look at her.  No one should be able to shake off 100 kilovolts so quickly.

“Shit, you _are_ SHIELD.”  Or worse.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

She pauses, partly because he sounds sincerely concerned but mostly because her head is spinning and if she tried to run now she’d definitely give herself a concussion. 

She cradles her face in her hands.  “I’m so fucked."

Mystery man yanks the leads out of his chest.  He doesn't even wince.

So very fucked.

-

Mystery man’s name is Steve and he escorts her into the diner she was heading to before almost getting run over and _not_ a black van with tinted windows.  Yay for small victories.

He asks Mickey for ice, a towel, the blue plate special and whatever the soup is.  Darcy doesn’t want soup, she wants French toast.  He watches her curiously while she winces into her water.

“What?” she growls.  “I’d say sorry for tasing you, but you clearly didn’t mind.”

“I’m trying to figure out why SHIELD would be interested in you,” he says freely.

“Don’t say the name, they’ll show up.  Like Beetlejuice.”

Mickey sets a ziploc bag of ice and a bunch of paper towels on the table.  And, because at least someone loves her, he brings the coffee pot over unasked.

“So, why do you think SH- those people would try to kidnap you in the middle of the night?”

Darcy glares at the ice while she wraps it.  Shouldn't have left the goddamn lab.  “Because my wit and charm could power a third world country.”

 -

Steve is finished with his food before she can see the bottom of her bowl.  A G-man probably wouldn't have inhaled that much meatloaf so Darcy lets her guard down a few notches.  She expects him to leave but he doesn't.  

"Do you want to go to the hospital?"

"Do you?" she counters.  "I got a bump on the head, _you_ are apparently immune to electricity."  

"I think you just missed."

She totally _didn't_.

"Missed, my ass.  Tased the god of freaking thunder and he went down like a slutty elevator," she grumbles to her soup.

Steve twitches.  She looks up at the motion and her vision swims.  She's pretty sure that has more to do with exhaustion than the head injury though.

"Is there someone you can stay with?  I don't think you should be alone.  I've been hit in the head before-"

"No surprise there," she huffs under her breath.

"-and you should get it checked."

"I'm just tired.  It's been a hard couple days."

His eyes go soft with understanding, and she suddenly feels a lot less combative.  He really has been nothing but nice and she shouldn't take her many and varied problems out on him.  Speaking of her problems, she feels her phone buzz with a text.

_why do I have 92 missed calls from you?_

Jane and her rainbow-tinted-tunnel vision.  Darcy laughs so hard tears start pouring out.  Steve's eyes widen in panic, which makes her laugh harder and before she realizes it she's sobbing into her chicken noodles.  Steve hesitates for a minute before sliding into the booth next to her and awkwardly pats her back.  She buries her face in his lapel and bawls.

"I really don't think you should be alone tonight," he says when she quiets down.

"Probably not."  She's still clutching at his jacket.  Steve has some serious guns inside that thing.

* * *

She opens the door to her and Jane's apartment and notes she left the kitchen light on during her three day sleepover at the office.  Oops.  She collapses on the futon.  Steve carefully sits at the other end like he doesn't trust it to hold both their weight.  She's tempted to tell him they bought this thing in anticipation of a Norse god so he doesn't need to be such a pussy about it.

"What?"

Note to self, less brain-mouth filter than usual.  "Nothing.  I was hit in the head, remember?"

"Right."  He leans over and reaches up.  Darcy can't decide if he's going to kiss her or kill her.  She knows which one she wants it to be though.  Steve's fingers brush over the back of her head searchingly.

"Ow!"

He nods a little to himself.  "Okay, it's not bad enough for a doctor."

"Told you dude.  I just need some Tylenol and then I can go on with my farce of a life."

"Life with a Norse god?" he asks, a little too blandly.

"I'm too tired for this."  She launches herself at him and plants one on his mouth.

Steve has a flashback of blonde and army olive.  His hands automatically come up to support her weight and then they're clutching at her sides as she tilts her head and licks the corner of his mouth.  Maybe brown hair and antagonistic is just how he likes it.  The sounds coming from her mouth... the sounds coming from  _his_ mouth... Peggy would shoot him in the head.  Shoulder at least.  

He stops.  Darcy pulls away.

"You're not SHIELD, right?" she asks, hopes, pleads.

"Not an agent," he hedges.

"Good enough for me."  She flops back down on his chest, but doesn't try to kiss him again.  "So then, you know what it's like to suddenly go 'I never signed up for this, why the fuck is _this_ my life now?'"

"You have no idea," he tells her with feeling.  Although... given what she's let slip, she might.

* * *

Steve is gone in the morning.  Darcy finds a slip of paper with his name and number and 'if you ever have any problems with 'them', call me' in neat, even lines.  She snaps a picture in case she really does need to call, because well, this is her life now.  She folds it in half to stick it in a pocket and forget about when she notices it's a receipt for a shawarma place in Midtown.  It's time-stamped an hour after The Attack.  

So _very very_  fucked.


	3. U + Ur Hand - P!nk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The serum does have an effect on sexual function. It’s not what you think.  
> Unless what you're thinking is it's a transparent excuse to write smut. In which case I maintain that this is a serious exercise in deconstructing the serum-enhanced-sex trope.

The first time they have sex, it’s stars and fireworks and sweet kisses, and if she notices anything amiss she chalks it up to first-time jitters.  Jane narrows her eyes at Darcy the next morning, then glances at Steve who dropped her off and at Thor who is hovering next to the lab toaster and then holds up her hand.  Darcy high-fives it enthusiastically. 

The second time Darcy wants to move beyond missionary so she starts with a striptease that ends with her on her knees.  She figures it out after half an hour trying to suck him off.  He’s definitely into it, clearly enjoying himself but she’s two seconds away from lockjaw and hasn’t gotten anything out of Steve except some light hair petting.

“You don’t have to keep going,” he tells her resignedly as she sits up, massaging her cheeks.  She purses her lips and grabs his hand.  She puts it on his straining cock and watches.  Right off the bat she sees he’s got a grip that she’s not going to be able to duplicate but _jesus_.  The view is spectacular and she doesn’t even realize she’s touching herself until Steve rasps ‘god don’t stop’.

She doesn’t, and it still takes a few minutes of super strength jerking before he arches off the bed with a drawn-out groan.

She lies down next to him and starts playing with his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her neck.

“Don’t be.  It makes sense.  You barely notice getting punched in the face, of course sex has to be… intense for you to feel anything.”

“I feel you,” he assures her.  “All of you.  You feel so, _so_ good.  It’s just… not enough.  I don’t want to be with anyone else but I can’t-”

Darcy sits up.  “Are you trying to tell me that it’s not my fault, sometimes it just doesn’t happen and we can still enjoy sex even if you don’t come every time?”

“I… think so?”  Steve doesn’t get the joke, but with his superdick, when would he have gotten the 'it's okay that's what the clitoris is for' speech?

Darcy laughs delightedly and straddles him.  “You wanna enjoy some more?”

She can feel him twitch under her.  She rubs her still wet pussy against him and oh… right duh of course Steve’s recovery time is a tenth of a normal man’s.  

He thrusts lazily against her.  “You should know,” he licks his thumb and brushes it against her nipple, “I can do this all day.”

“Baby, I’m counting on it.”

 -

They fuck for five hours.  Steve orgasms _once_ to her god-knows-how-many.  His hands were everywhere, grasping at her legs, hitching under her ass, tangling in her hair.  She’s got a magnificent set of hickeys on her tits and one inside her thigh.  There is no way to argue Steve is not into sex.  

Darcy thinks if the only way she could get off was with her hand and nothing or no one else she’d be the most bored and frustrated person on the planet, so this will not stand.  Well, it will, for hours on end apparently, but that’s a problem without a solution right now.  Luckily, Darcy is all about solving problems.  

* * *

 She comes back to his room with a huge shopping bag that would make Tony Stark proud.  Or bleach his eyeballs.  Hard to say.

“Okay, I got a bunch of stuff.”  She tips the bag onto the floor of his dining room and sits down, patting the space next to her.  “Come look and tell me what you want to try.”

Steve lowers his newspaper and his eyes bug out.  “You got all this stuff for me?”  He doesn’t squeak.  At all.

“For us,” she corrects.  Steve sits next to her warily.  “It’s lack of stimulation, not lack of interest right, so I didn’t think costumes or films would help.  Although… hmm maybe next time.  We'll watch the porno version of you and then reenact it.  For science.”  

“I guess I should just be glad you’re not making jokes about my age.”  He picks up a cock ring dubiously.  

“That one vibrates.  Might be too big a first step.  You wanna try the lube?  It tingles,” she sings, waggling it in his face.

It is the least intimidating thing on the floor so he picks her up, lube and all, and carries her to the bed.

“I feel like I should mention this is incredibly hot,” she says casually, kicking her legs a little as she picks at the plastic wrapping.  “I’m being ravished by Captain America.  Hey, so I was reading some stuff between shopping carts-”  

Steve drops her on the bed and bends to cover her mouth with his.  While undoing his pants.  Which Darcy also finds incredibly hot.  It's kind of a theme.

“God Steve,” she moans when he pulls away to get his shirt off.

"What were you saying about reading?" he teases, reaching up her dress.

"That you should switch hands.  Same strength, different feelinnnngh."  Her head rolls back as his fingers work into her underwear.

"Sure, sounds like a good idea," he agrees readily.  He watches Darcy pull her dress over her head and knock her glasses askew with her elbow.  One arm fishes around inside the cloth and holds the glasses out to him.  He takes them with a smile and moves to put them on the bureau, she whines at the loss of touch.

"That wasn't very sexy was it?" she notes once her dress is off.

"Not really."

"This next part is," she promises, dragging him down to join her.  She kisses him, a soft pressure against his lips incongruous of her legs rubbing together.

Steve flexes the fingers of his right hand before burying them in her.  She wails into his mouth, hips jerking in frenzied staccato.  Her body relaxes almost immediately after except for the echoes of her orgasm clenching around his fingers.  It occurs to him, as he basks in Darcy's murmured affections, that this is what she bought all those... things for.  To make him shine and babble and to have it all for herself.

-

The lube is under her dress, and she perks up when she realizes he's going to use it.  She makes him sit at the edge of the bed and settles herself behind him.

It builds slower but more intense than usual with the small touch guiding him to switch when his fist gets too tight.  He's not sure if the 'tingling' has as much effect as the greedy gaze of his girl, chin digging in his shoulder, the weight of her breasts against his back and her breath in his ear. 

He can feel his control slipping and he pulls at her arm so he can fuck her hand.  The fluttery little squeezes send him surging off the cliff. 

He falls to his side slowly, still holding her. 

She laughs and lets him take her down.  "I'd say that was a success.  I have the best ideas."

Steve mumbles something conceding this.

"You know," she whispers huskily, "a lot of that stuff is unisex." 

She can literally feel his interest rising.


	4. Coin-Operated Boy - The Dresden Dolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appropriating Joss Whedon's Dollhouse 'verse.
> 
> Because dollhouse is fun to say.

The Dollhouse is an urban legend. Tony Stark, the guy most likely to design a device to wipe and program memories in people, categorically denies inventing or planning on any such thing. Tony Stark doesn’t mention Jane Foster, who did, is an employee under a very well shielded shell company.

Even Darcy, who’s been working for Foster a month now, still finds it hard to believe.  Supposedly, once Jane deems her capable and this House is running smoothly, Darcy will take over and Jane will move on and establish another one.  That day seems farther and farther with every demand for food barked in Darcy’s direction.

-

Jane is shoving a poptart in her mouth as Loki returns from an engagement.  She’s still chewing when the wipe is complete so Darcy takes the impatient hand flapping to mean she should talk.

“Hello Loki.  How are you feeling?”

“Did I fall asleep?”  He’s all wide eyed innocence, nothing like the snooty British asshole who left yesterday evening.

“For a little while,” she confirms gently.

“Shall I go now?”

“If you like.”

Loki slides off the chair and his handler none too gently suggests a few laps in the pool.

“I swim thirty laps every day,” Loki informs him solemnly.

The phone rings and Jane sprays a few crumbs into it when she answers.  She hangs up after a few minutes of curt back-and-forth.

“New Active incoming.  You will sit and watch and touch nothing.  After I do the baseline measurements, both brain and body, you’ll tell me what I did.  If you have questions, I’ll answer them if they’re not stupid.”

“Okay.  What counts as a stupid question?”

Jane narrows her eyes at her and shutters the blinds overlooking the Active area.

“Guess that answers that,” mutters Darcy.  

-

Darcy doesn’t get to read files.  Darcy only gets to read the summary attached to Vetr’s original personality, now on ice until his contract is up in five years.  The gist of _Barnes, James B_ is that he served four tours as a sniper and is here to forget.  The haggard, haunted look in his eyes makes it clear how easy the choice to erase his brain instead of living with his demons was.

“And it works?  I mean, I know you don’t just remove it all, but how do you balance what you take and what you leave?”

Jane spins the model of his brain lazily.  “I’m not taking anything, I’m blunting the edges.  The things that keep him up at night, the things he’s not aware of that set his teeth on edge, the sense that he’s waiting for his next mission, his next kill.  We’ve had several of these come in… I’ve gotten good at it.”  Jane pets edge of her console absently.  “Five years of service and a nice chunk of change in exchange for a shot at normal is certainly better than… most of the alternatives.”

“He’s lucky he’s so pretty, then.” 

-

Vetr is two months into his contract when Upstairs learns Special Agent Rogers is not cool with his best friend being disappeared, even if it was by his own request.  It’s another five months of cat and mouse until finally Coulson and Special Agent Rogers come to an agreement.  Darcy nearly drops Jane’s coffee when she see’s the head of the House giving a tour to the guy that’s basically been harassing them for weeks.

“I’d have thought he’d be trying to burn us to the ground,” remarks Darcy.

“He did six weeks ago,” Jane reminds her.  “His problem is that nothing here is illegal, as there are no laws to break, everything is just…”

“Morally reprehensible,” supplies Darcy.  “To a certain kind of person,” she adds hastily.

“Pure science is often misunderstood by the masses,” sniffs Jane.  

“Doesn’t help that Tony Stark has taken your revolutionary medical device and is using it for a glorified Penthouse forum.”

“A Penthouse forum for senators and businessmen.”  Jane blows on her coffee.  “We live in a world where nothing happens without permission from the rich and powerful, so I need _them_ much more than their money.  It’s going to be a long time, but eventually, there will be no such thing as neurodegenerative disorders-”

Coulson coughs politely.  

“Afternoon.”  Jane doesn’t look up from her coffee mug.

“Dr. Foster, this is Special Agent Rogers.  If you wouldn't mind giving us a _simplified_ rundown of the device...”

Jane launches into a technology heavy lecture on mapping neurons both in the brain and in the body.  She starts talking about Parkinson’s and the effects of a neurological source on mechanical functions and turning that on its head to actually implant muscle memory and... Steve zones out.

He looks out the window and spies a group doing yoga.  He snorts a little when he recognizes Bucky in a tight green t-shirt doing a half moon.  Bucky’s face is pleasantly blank and Steve feels a shot of relief because it’s not the pained, broken expression he’s used to.  Then guilt rushes over him because that Bucky is barely a person, even if he is happier.

"He's pretty popular."  The other girl, her hair shoved into a hat, looks as out of place among this practically alien equipment as he feels.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

She glances at Coulson.  "People get out of their contracts early.  The point is for clients to need the service not the face."

"Right."  This doesn't appear to mollify Special Agent Rogers.

Coulson lays a hand on Jane's shoulder to shut her up.  "I think we're fine thank you, Dr. Foster.  Unless you had any questions?"

Steve shakes his head.  "Let's get this over with."

Jane blinks.  "Is he... are you volunteering?  Seriously?"

"Special Agent Rogers and I have come to an agreement," Coulson replies serenely.  "His contract will go toward Vetr's treatment costs."

"Sure.  I'll just... go prep the room?"  Jane leaves, still looking nonplussed. 

Coulson's phone rings and he steps out, with a meaningful eyebrow raise at Darcy.  Darcy resists the urge to salute.

"You're willing to pretty far for your friend," she tells him once the door closes.  She's not sure if that's impressive or stupid.

"It's my fault."

"You sent him into a warzone and told him to kill people?"

"Not that.  Why he came here.  He... No one is fine coming back, I know that, but he was bad.  I thought it'd be fine if he stayed with me because I'm  _Special Agent Rogers_ , not just some civilian.  He got lost in one of those memories and he pointed a gun at me.  When he came out of it, I was pointing one at him.  He just left."

"Jane'll fix it."  Darcy is fully confident of this.  "Think of it as years of therapy collapsed into one rainbow tinted light show."

"Right." He sighs.  "I'm Steve by the way."

"Not for long," she can't help reminding him.

Steve actually smiles a little.  "Yeah.  But for now.  I just... with Bucky down there... no one's going to remember Steve."

“Okay,” she says impulsively.  Probably because she’s got a weakness for blue eyes.  “I’m Darcy.”

“Nice to meet you, Darcy.”

-

Officially, when he's not at an engagement, his name is Baldr.  God of purity and light.

In the privacy of her own mind, because he doesn't have one, he'll always be Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> medicinal carrots!


	5. Heartlines - Florence + The Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> standard soulmark fic

Darcy’s soulmark is ‘I’ll get you out of here safe I promise’ in an evenly spaced circle around her nipple.  After years of internal debate, she’s still deciding whether or not to hold the placement of the soulmark against the soulmate.  

When she was younger, she’d put fireman above policeman on the list of possible scenarios.  At least until her parents decided her soulmate was not worth burning down the house for so no more playing with matches.  

-

Thor happens and the likelihood of her soulmate being an agent rockets up to the top of the list and that’s mildly terrifying because did you _see_ the giant metal thing tearing shit up?  She just hopes her first words aren’t her last.  None of the agents in New Mexico had said anything to her, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that sticking with Calamity Jane is her best bet at meeting him.  So when Jane goes to London, Darcy packs up the assorted Science bits and tries to figure out driving on the wrong side of the road.

The Convergence phenomenon occurs above a major metropolitan city, not some podunk town in the desert.  Jane Foster goes from obscure nutjob to celebrated scientist in the space of a week.  It means conferences and think tanks and travel, and Darcy is setting up webcams so Jane can babysit her data long-distance.  

She’s trying to figure out what the buttons on the router actually _do_  so she can set it up in an empty cubicle when the alarms start blaring.  

“Well fuck.”  The Stark field research facility employee manual covers what to do in case of an attack but she can’t for the life of her remember which alarm meant ‘evacuate in an orderly fashion’ and which meant ‘don’t move unless you’re in immediate danger of death or maiming, and keep the halls clear so you don’t get fucking shot’.

Really though, one kind of turns into the other a certain point so she guesses she should stay put.  A quick peek into the hall proves if there is anyone else around, they aren't moving.  And had the presence of mind to turn off the lights.  Go Team Science.

Darcy is just reaching for the light switches when the elevator doors open.  Black tactical gear suggest they are not the good guys so she backs away and hides under Simone's desk, cradling her taser.  She's looking at the window speculatively, which is the only reason she sees a blue figure swinging from the conveniently abandoned window washing rig. 

 _Fuck_.  The blue figure crashes through Erik's office, drawing shouting and gunfire.  It'd be stupid to move now, she tells herself.  It has nothing to do with all her leg-bones being jelly.  She closes her eyes and throws a wordless prayer up in the general direction of Asgard, just in case.  When she opens them, she realizes everything has gone quiet and  _Captain America_ is in front of her, hand extended.  He tilts his head at the hall.

"I'll get you out of here safe, I promise."

 _Fuckfuckfuckityfuck_.  She closes her eyes again and debates slamming her head into Simone's drawer.

"Um, miss?"

"Give me a minute, I'm trying not to say something stupid," she snaps.  Her eyes fly open when Captain America chokes.  "Shit, I'm sorry, that backfired horribly.  But I mean... does that mean your...?"

"Yeah.  Now's not the best time though."  He wiggles his fingers and she tentatively puts her palm over his.  He pulls her up easily and she catches sight of the shield on his other arm, red and blue haloed around the star.  The lightbulb goes off. 

"That explains it."

"What?"

"Show you later.  Let's blow this popsicle stand."  She gingerly steps out of the cube farm.  The gunmen lie fallen on the ground like a particularly grim new carpet pattern.  She eyes the bullet-riddled labspace with resignation.  "Jane is going to be so pissed.  I'm Darcy, by the way."

"Steve."

-

Later turns out to be a week because mission and debriefing (of the official agenty kind) and apparently Steve has been spamming Jane's email trying to find out what her favorite flower is.  She doesn't have the heart to tell him even if Jane did check her email on a regular basis, she wouldn't know something so not-science-related.  She doesn't have the heart to tell him anything really as his fingers trace over her words reverently.  


	6. A Whole New World - Disney's Aladdin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> outoftime!Steve x thoroughlymodern!Darcy

The SHIELD agent basically shoves Darcy in a tiny media room with Captain America, with the instruction to help him get acclimated to life in this brave new world.  Darcy looks the agent dead in the eye, waves her hands in Steve’s general direction and says “Abracadabra, asshole.  Can I go now?”

Steve chuckles a little.  Agent Asshole gives them a look that is both bland and annoyed and shuts the door.  She gives him the finger, even if he can’t see it, and then turns her attention to Steve.

Their paths have crossed a couple times since the Battle.  Jane works for SHIELD now, because Erik needs her and she needs Darcy.  Darcy is fine with it, since she’s getting paid regularly.  She has the check stubs to prove it.  They don’t say SHIELD but they don’t bounce either and she was finally able to get her parents to leave her alone.

She throws herself into the chair across from him and sighs.  

“Do you really need my help or is this some convoluted way of keeping me out of trouble?”

Steve points to the history book.  “I think I’m covered.  Anything I need more information about,” he points to the computer, “one of the first things they showed me how to do was an internet search.”

“Right, well, you ever need to know about the social and economic phenomenon that is freemium phone games, you holler.”  She pulls out a Starkpad and proceeds to play Avengers Angry Birds with the volume up.

-

Darcy is fully capable of multitasking, so she notices that it’s been half an hour of Steve staring at the same spot.  She peeks at the book and feels a stinging behind her eyes.  Of course.  It’s a two page timeline on WW2 with words and numbers and section references but all that matters to Steve is the little blue table with the fatality numbers.  The signature mushroom cloud picture is at the end of the timeline.  She doesn’t even want to know what he must think of his country.

 

“Hey, did you read?  Like books or magazines.  Or comics.  I mean I know you were _in_ comics but that doesn’t mean you read them…” She fumbles the landing, but she gives her distraction technique a solid 8 because he looks up.

“Yes, I read.”  

“Cool.  Have you read _The Great Gatsby_?”

“It was pretty popular with the boys.  I borrowed Gabe’s copy.  Couldn’t put it down.”

“It’s required reading for America’s youth.  At least, the ones that go to public school.”

“That so.”  Steve mulls over this.  

“It is.  Some things endure.  If you want,” she hesitates a little, but the tiny spark of interest in his eyes keeps her going, “I found a great bookshop, used and new.  Mostly used.  It’s next to this amazing falafel cart.”

“They still have bookshops?”  He nods at the device in her hands.  “I thought everything was digital now.  Or online order only.”

“Dude, this,” she wiggles her tablet, “is new.  The _want_ has been around forever, but the actual product?  Small, light, easy, everything with a flick of the finger, available to the masses… less than ten years.  I grew up with an Atari.  Thing was about as big as I was and just as clunky.  And as useful as _this_ is for long airplane rides, nothing beats paperback.”

Steve looks thoughtful.  “Okay.  I actually have money for books now, you can show me next time.”

 _Shit_ she thinks.  “Sure,” she says.

 -

“Jaaane, help me!”

“Have you tried turning it off and on again?” Jane asks carelessly.

“No, because it’s really hard to kill and resurrect supersoldiers.  Your next plan had better not be to hit it til it works again because that one will end in death and my ghost will totally haunt your ass.  All your science will be victim to my afterworldly whims.  You will never perform a repeatable experiment again.”

Jane finally puts down the energy reading printouts to look at her. “What exactly is the problem?”

Darcy pauses.  “I’m taking Captain America to a bookshop.”  Now that she says it out loud, it doesn’t seem as panic-inducing.

“Really?”  Jane is good people.  Jane doesn’t question why _her_ , Darcy Lewis, just why a bookshop.

“They had books in 1942.  SHIELD is stuffing everything that’s changed down his throat, I thought giving him something that hadn’t would be nice.  Maybe they've brainwashed me into wanting to complete the incredibly stupid mission they gave me.  To modernize Captain America.”

Jane ponders this.  “Should be easier than educating an alien prince,” she decides finally.  “Why do you need my help?”

“Because I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“Steve can read, right?  I’m sure he can figure out a bookshop on his own.”

Darcy blinks.  “Huh.”  All the panic drains out of her.

Jane smiles to herself.  It might be mostly true what everyone thinks, that she can’t survive without Darcy.  It’s also true that Darcy can’t really survive without her.  She sorts through the piles on her desk, finds a legal pad and pulls a pen from her hair.  

She gives Darcy a list titled _Jane’s favorites_.  It includes Heinlein, Verne, Asimov and Wells.  It also has Gaiman, Aiken and Dahl.

Darcy glances over it.  “Dark.  Like space-dark.”

“Well, you can try to make him read _The Babysitters Club_ or _Animorphs_ if you want.”

“I was more of a _Horrible Histories_ person, screw you very much.”

-

Steve spends hours browsing.  Darcy, with the practiced ease of a student who doesn't have money for fun reading, picks up a Dan Brown novel and pretends like she's just skimming.  Every now and then she moves to another section and scans the titles before going back to it.  She's halfway through when Steve finds her.  He's got ten books, a couple of titles from Jane's list but she doesn't recognize any of the others.

"Nice haul."  

"Sorry I took so long."

"It's fine, I can entertain myself."  She looks around to figure out where she can abandon her book inconspicuously, and sees a familiar name.  "Oh my god, you need this."  She pulls a worn copy of  _A Spell for Chameleon_ off the shelf and puts it on top of his stack.  "If you like it, and you will, there are thirty more."

"Thank you.  Um, I honestly didn't realize how long we'd been here.  Let me buy you lunch."  

"Okay."  Darcy stuffs Dan into a gap and follows Captain America back out into the world.  Hopefully, it's not as strange to him as it was yesterday.


	7. There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey - Panic! At the Disco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> regular!Steve x barista!Darcy

Darcy is pretty okay with her job.  It’s a one-off kitschy cafe that isn’t overseen by some franchise or corporation, so it’s not like she has to worry about random inspections or company policy.  She has plenty of time to write her dissertation in the mornings and enough money not to starve by working the afternoon and evenings.  She just makes coffee for nice people with a smile and they tend to drop ones in the tip jar instead of change, which is great for everyone involved.

And every day this whole week, tall blonde and gorgeous comes in for a cup of Americano and a slice of pie.  He always takes the window table; he likes to look out while his coffee gets cold.  Usually he has a sketchbook.  Sometimes he has his equally hot friend.

The important thing is that he tips well and not the way his blue eyes make her bubble like a goddamn kettle.  He likes jazz, as evidenced by the little foot tapping he does when Satchmo comes on, and it’s entirely coincidence that her ipod tends to start playing more of it at around four in the afternoon.

-

Bucky slides into the seat across from him balancing some godawful frothy thing.  He wasn’t very subtle about the way he watched the girl putting it together either.

“You better have given her a tip.”

“The way she wears that uniform, I’d give her the whole thing.”  Bucky casts one last appreciative look at the barista.  She cocks her hip then points meaningfully at the sign that says ‘we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone’.  

Steve tears the page he was working on out of the book and folds it in half.  Bucky takes it and puts in his pocket without opening it.

“So, what’s our boy been up to?” he asks around his latte.

Steve’s gaze flicks to the jewelry store.  “Whatever it is is in the back.  Schmidt has only been here once, but that little guy with the glasses goes in and doesn’t come out for hours.”  

“And you’re just stuck here, admiring the view.”

Steve shrugs.  “It’s a nice view.”  

“What do you tell people?  That you’re working on your screenplay?”

“Hasn’t come up.”  He flips back a couple pages.  He’s added some sunset to the sketch of the street.  “If they do, I’ll just tell them this corner inspires me.”

Bucky glances back at the cash register.  “Yeah, the corner.”

-

Tall blonde and gorgeous usually comes in between 1 and 2.  At least, he has for the last two weeks.  It’s nearly 4 now.  Who knows, maybe he’s getting a better perspective from the Peet’s.

She’s startled out of her disappointment by screeching tires and sirens.  A team in SWAT gear swarms the jewelry store across the street.  A few heartbeats later the guys in the plainclothes charge in.  The only customer is staring slack-jawed, which is kind of gross as he was in the middle of a tuna salad sandwich.

The sirens just don’t stop and there’s yelling so she doesn’t notice until they literally come through the door.  Yeah, literally.  Tall blonde gorgeous _and_ athletic tackles a guy into the glass and the sparkling shards fly everywhere.  It'd be quite pretty if she weren't ducking behind the display case.

He knees the guy none-too-gently in the back and fishes handcuffs from his pocket.  Darcy tries very hard not to let several trains of thought crash all over her face.  Handsome friend steps through the empty door frame and hauls the cuffed guy to his feet.  As he leaves, he shoves TBG in the shoulder.

Blondie is practically wringing his hands as Darcy goes into the backroom to get the cleaning supplies. 

"Let me help with that."

She frowns.  "I got it.  No other customers."  Probably won't be for a while with this mess.

"I'll do it.  You should call the owner."

He has a valid point.  She reluctantly hands over the broom. 

-

When she gets off the phone, Blondie has all the shards in a big pile and is sweeping the edges for strays.

"I'm supposed to get your name and badge number."  _She_ kind of feels like wringing her hands now.

"Oh of course."  He fishes a couple cards out of his pocket and then hesitates.  "This is for your boss, I'm just... if I said the other one was for you, how would that end?"  He looks seriously anxious, and it's freaking adorable.

She takes both and reads the top one.  "Detective Steven Rogers."  She gives him a flirtatious smile.  "Hey Detective, would you like to get coffee sometime?"

"Absolutely."

Darcy makes his Americano and a cup of tea for herself while he gets the glass into a bucket.  He totally deserves pie too, because he's doing a better job cleaning than she would have.  She brings it all to his regular table and settles in with a contented sigh.  She jerks straight up when she realizes the glare on the window gives this table a perfect view of the counter.  She turns to him with an incredulous gape.

Detective Steven Rogers turns as red as the strawberry rhubarb on the plate. 


	8. Paralyzer - Finger Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alcohol fueled heart-to-hearts

The night starts with Darcy behaving herself.  Mostly.  As much as can be considered polite for a Tony Stark shindig/Thor victory revel.

Black Widow is behind the bar probably because she likes scaring the agents who show up for a drink.

Darcy slides into the stool between Jane and Steve. "Martini, shaken not shtirred," she says in her best Sean Connery.  Natasha looks unimpressed.  "What, you want to be Bond?"

"Pretty sure she already is," Jane stage-whispers.

"She's like fifty Bond girls in one," counters Darcy.  "Who's your favorite?"

Natasha considers the question.  "My name is Pussy Galore," she says with a smirk.  Steve chokes into his red, white and blue cocktail.

"I guess the crazy one with the killer legs is a little too on the nose," Darcy allows.  "Jane's is Holly Goodhead."

"She's an astronaut!"  Jane stirs her rum and coke rebelliously.

“And yours?” prompts Natasha, pouring frangelico and vanilla vodka.

“Felix Leiter.  He’s totally a Bond girl.”  

Natasha nods approvingly.

“Hey Jane, you think anyone here has played real-actual-wormhole beer pong?”

Jane looks around the room.  “This isn’t a science conference, we can’t just set up a drinking game on the pretext of calculating flight patterns and buoyancy models for commercial alcohol.”

“This is a Tony Stark party, you really think we need a ‘pretext’?”  Darcy grabs her chocolate cake martini and runs off to convince Thor to move that really nice coffee table.

Once she explains the rules (get the ball into the wormhole cup, everyone else yells 'for Asgard!' and downs a drink, then someone warps to the other side), Thor is all over it.  This does not improve the situation.

-

“If I were Captain America, I’d be lifting stuff for phone numbers and hotel keys,” Darcy slurs.  “You know, collect fifty stars and stick ‘em on my stripes.”

“I suspect this is why you’re not Captain America,” Jane is only a little soberer than her.  Barely.  “Did you just liken the American flag to a gangbang?”

“I don’t know.  Ugh.  We’re never playing real-actual-wormhole beer pong with Clint again.  He’s better than you.”

“It’s kind of in the name.  Hawkeye.  Eyes like a hawk,” Jane muses philosophically.  “Sees a thing and dives over a hundred miles an hour to eat the thing.  Except it’s a cup.  A _lot_ of cups.”

“Right, and _we’re_ the ones who have to drink them.  What were we talking about?”  

Jane thinks for a minute.  “Captain America and gangbanging.”

“Yeah!  Except that’s not it.  I said if I were Captain America, I’d be all over the groupie sex.  And free one-liners.  I can think of like, five about my 'flagpole' off the top of my head.”

“You don’t have a flagpole.”  Jane picks up a pretzel and then drops it in alarm.  “You don’t have a flagpole, do you?” she asks urgently.

“No, but my Liberty Bell hasn’t been rung in forever so-”

“You two do know that we can hear you, right?” Clint asks once he’s able to breathe.  

Darcy looks up from Jane’s lap.  Steve is making fishy faces.  Very red ones.  

“Are you choking?  I know mouth to mouth.”

“Choking is the Heimlich maneuver,” Jane reminds her.

“I didn’t say mouth to mouth would help.  I’m just saying I know it.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Water."  Natasha materializes with two mugs and forces Darcy to sit up and drink hers.  Then she fixes a Widow glare on Clint.

"They had _Thor_ on their team.  I got carried away."   

"You two, bed.  The party is pretty much over anyway.  You," she points to Clint, "are on cleanup duty."  He has the good sense not to argue.

Jane rises and nearly topples over.  Thor is by her side in an instant, sweeping her into his arms and rushing off to nurse her back to health.  Steve is left trying to wrangle Darcy into putting her shoes back on.

-

"Do you not  _like_ girls?"  Darcy asks suddenly.  Steve trips over his feet.  "I mean, there are plenty of fanboys who'd polish your shield if that's what you're into." _  
_

He looks over his shoulder at Darcy, slowly making her way out of the elevator.  Her expression says the room is a little wobbly so he tries not to bark the words at her.  "I like girls just fine."  

"So why don't you-"

Steve cracks.  "Why do you _care_?" 

"I wanna know what works!" she wails.  "You should be having so much sex Tony Stark retires to be a hermit in the mountains!  You are practically drowning in pussy, which, anyone else, would be a good thing, a happy thing.  But you, you just look lonely and disappointed.  Is it women's lib?  I mean, I know a lot of them aren't wearing bras and they are very... proud of how horny they are, and I can understand why that'd be a turn-off.  Just don't say anything to the press, they'd take it entirely the wrong way, some of them are  _ca-ray-zee._ "  She drops her shoes and leans so hard against the wall he hears her skull bounce off the plaster.  "Ow," she sniffs pathetically.

Steve guides her to the floor so she can sit for a few minutes.  Once he's seated next to her, he tries to parse the waterfall of words.

"You think sex with that kind of woman would make me happy?" he asks finally.

"Quantity is quality."  She picks up one of her shoes and fiddles with the straps.  "It'd be _something_ I can work with," she says so softly he almost doesn't hear it.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means if you were the kind of guy who had meaningless sex with drunk women, I could be one of them!"

Steve has to pause to pick his jaw up off the ground.  "You want to have meaningless sex with Captain America."

"I'd  _rather_ have meaning _ful_ sex with you, but yeah, I'd take the drunken hook-up option.  Okay, I think I can make it on my own."  She stands shakily.  "Goodnight Steve.  And thanks.  And sorry." _  
_

It takes her ten minutes to get five feet, so Steve has plenty of time to compose a text and press send.  Then he gets off his ass and carries her to her bed.

It'll be waiting for her, along with Gatorade and a small pharmacy, when she wakes up in the morning.

_I want to have meaningful sex with you too._


	9. Somebody Told Me - The Killers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neighbor!Steve x Stark!Darcy
> 
> two for one special

The movers have gone.  Whoever is now living in the apartment across the hall has a hell of a lot of stuff, Steve thinks.  He's just getting settled in with the Edith Piaf record when he hears the one-sided conversation floating up the stairs.

"I am a strong independent woman who don't need no man, not even one who contributed half of my genetic material.  -This place fits my income level... yeah, you're _not_ the science-happy lunatic who's paying my salary.  -What do you mean you hired a decorator, I don't have any stuff to... oh my god.  Did you furnish my apartment without consulting me?!"

The voice runs the last few feet and the door across the hall flies open.  Something hits the floor.

"Goddammit, of course you did.  Why is everything fucking purple?  --I. was.  _nine_.  If you think this is going to make me stay with you while you put everything back to 'security deposit' levels of livable, you are so very wrong."

There's a low growling noise and stomping.

" _This,_ this right here is why you were right Darcy.  Stay strong.  Don't think about the subway or the free food or the superfast internet.  Actually... yup, there it is.  Well, at least _he_ paid for it."

Steve's curiosity finally wins out and he opens the door.

The're a laundry basket with a lamp and some curtains in the hall, but his attention is mostly taken with the room.  It is  _very_ purple.  The girl starts and drops what she's holding when she sees him.  It's an internet box, like the one Natasha installed for him, except hers has an Iron Man figurine glued to it.

"I was just... do you need some help?  I'm Steve," he remembers to add.  

She shakes herself.  "Hi," she tries gamely.  "Please don't tell the landlord."  

* * *

Steve tries to be quiet when he has to leave in the middle of the night on missions, but the woman in 2A definitely gives him the evil eye when they pass in the lobby and the girl in 3B left a box of 'Sweet Dreams' herbal tea with a spiky purple bow outside his door, so it's probably not working.

The latest mission was three days of dirt and shooting and he wants to go  _home_ so much he actually accepts Tony's offer to have him driven.  It's a little after seven and it's raining when he gets there so he doesn't care how loud his slow crawl up the stairs is.  3B opens her door as he tries to find his keys.

"Oh, just in time!  You like Thai?  I don't feel like moving but I don't eat enough to meet the minimum for delivery."

Steve blinks at her.  She hands him a menu.

"Everyone raves about the mussels, but seafood and spicy is just not something I trust from a place that delivers in less than an hour.  I like the yellow curry, if you want to play it safe."

"That sounds good," he says cautiously.

"Great.  You want a drink?  I'm totally getting an iced coffee.  You look like you could use a pick-me-up too."

"Sure?"

"Super duper."  She disappears back into her cave of purple.

Steve peels off his jacket and stumbles into the shower.  Once he feels a little more human he unlocks the front door and collapses onto his couch.  It creaks with the weight and he can just imagine 2A scowling at the ceiling.  

-

"I don't think I ever caught your name.  How much do I owe you?"  

"Oh.  I'm Darcy."  Darcy pushes the box of eggrolls at him.  "Steve, right?"

"Yeah."  Thai iced coffee is pretty good, he decides.  Wait.  "How much do I owe you?"

She smiles into her noodles.  "So close.  I gave the guy thirty bucks and told him to keep the change."

As Steve fishes for his wallet, Darcy turns on the fairly intimidating entertainment center.  "Nice set-up," she comments.  

"Yeah, my friend did it.  Then she threw away the manuals because 'Americans don't use them'."

"It's true, we don't."  She fiddles with two of the remotes.  Steve is secretly gratified to see it takes her a few tries to figure out the right combination of buttons.  "Ha.  Don't judge me.  Ooh!  My Latin teacher in high school used to put this on when he didn't feel like teaching.  That happened a lot, now that I think about it."  

The title card says  _A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum_.  Somehow, slumped on the couch, it doesn't bother him at all that Darcy talks during the movie.  She tells him that she got extra credit for hitting the boys next to her when they made dirty Latin jokes and that she impressed her boss by pronouncing constellation names correctly, so if anyone says Latin is useless, you can tell them they're wrong.

Steve drifts to sleep somewhere in the middle.  He wakes up in time for his morning run and finds himself covered in a purple quilt.

* * *

Darcy’s phone has been ringing for a long time.  It’s hard to say how long exactly when she’s got her hands under his shirt, but Steve is pretty sure whoever it is will give up soon.  He’s half right.

The phone stops ringing.

But then the front door opens and a vaguely familiar man walks in.

“Hi Happy,” Darcy says resignedly.

“Your dad is calling.”  He holds up a Starkphone.  “You might want to…” he gestures vaguely at his mouth.

Darcy glares and presses ‘accept’.

“Father.”

“Spawn!”  Tony Stark’s face looms into view.  “Did an alien eat your phone again-- Is that- Are you corrupting Captain America?!”

“He was like that when I found him.”

"You knew I was Captain America?"

"I'm so sorry, Darce, you know he doesn't believe in leaving voicemail."  Pepper wrestles the phone from Tony and hangs up.  Happy gratefully backs out of the apartment.

"So..."  Darcy picks at the fringe of a bright blue throw pillow, avoiding his gaze.  

"How long have you known who I was?"

Darcy doesn't look up.  "I'm Howard Stark's granddaughter.  I hit Thor with a van and then a taser.  I knew who you were when you first opened the door."

"Oh.  A van?"

"Jane hit him too.  Pretty sure Hulk threw a sedan at him once.  It's not that unusual.  Did you miss the part where I'm Tony Stark's secret lovechild?"

Steve shrugs.  "It was weirder finding out Tony was Howard's son and older than me.  I imagine you didn't tell me for the same reason I didn't tell you."

"Because people get their calculating faces on.  Yeah."  The fringe is coming off in her hands so Steve takes the pillow from her.

"If I promise not to ask Tony for all your embarrassing childhood photos, will you look at me?"

She laughs and finally meets his eyes.  "I don't have any embarrassing childhood photos.  Plenty of embarrassing college photos though."

"I don't know if you know this, but I once toured America wearing tights."  He pulls her back into his lap.

"Mm, bet you looked adorable."

"So cute," he agrees seriously before she kisses him.


	10. Crash Into Me - Dave Matthews Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> started out as the agent!Darcy trope. Then I guess I got hungry. And hormonal.  
> Happens.

Steve has an honest to god office now.  A secure place where he can fill out reports and take meetings and... he's pretty sure he only has it because Captain America has an image to maintain.  

It's kind of hard to maintain that image when Coulson's new assistant is humming the James Bond jingle as she presents herself to her boss.

"Ms. Lewis."

"Reporting for duty.  Here to file your files and pry you out of your bland beige shell at regular intervals.  Doctor's orders."

"Unfortunately, I know exactly what I did to deserve this, so why don't you start by cleaning up my calendar.  I've missed a few appointments.”

* * *

It takes less than a week for Miss Lewis to wrap the local analysts and admins around her little finger.  Shameless eavesdropping reveals she’s besties with Dr. Foster and posted a picture of Thor on her facebook before SHIELD realized who/what he was.  He’s not sure how this gets her out of the current need-to-know structure around Asgard and its inhabitants, but she’s completely confident that beating SHIELD to the punch gives her some kind of immunity.  Based on the glassy-eyed adoration coming off her entourage, they seem to agree with her.

-

“Is she allowed to tell them about that?” he asks Coulson, pointing out the window to where Miss Lewis is clearly reenacting Thor’s first few minutes on Earth.

“Information about Asgard is cleared for Levels 2 and higher.  Archival evidence shows Thor isn't the first and certainly won’t be the last, so it’s important that no one misses the link going forward.  And she hasn’t been able to tell anyone else about her personal firsthand experience with a god until now, so I’m letting her get it out of her system.”  Coulson catches her gaze and beckons her into his office.

She sighs and slides off Kristen’s desk.  

“What’s shakin’, bacon?”

Coulson lifts the cover page of Steve’s report, dotted with varying sizes of grease stain.

“As much as I appreciate your need for sugar in the afternoon, I have to insist you stop eating poptarts over my sensitive documents.  Also,” he taps the unicorn sticker, horn pointed to where he needs to sign, “unicorns are a Level 10, please use the standard office supplies provided by SHIELD.”

“Fine.  Because you asked so nicely instead of stealing everything out of my desk.  You know, like you do.”

“Only happened once.  Have you met Miss Lewis, Captain?”

“Not officially.”  He holds out a hand.  “Steve Rogers.”

She takes his hand and pumps it enthusiastically.  “Darcy Lewis, wrangler of scientists and spies.  That is my official title, it’s on all my business cards.”  She pulls one out of her jacket and hands it to him to prove it.

“Sarah isn’t supposed to take your requests anymore.”

“It’s amazing what warm poptarts will get you at 4 in the afternoon.”

Coulson presses a finger to his temple.  

“I may have created a complete cover identity for my cactus, including a building badge and CV,” she tells Steve conspiratorially.  “My cactus has more qualifications than I do.”

“Becomes more true by the second,” Coulson sighs, waving her out.

“Made that one easy for you.  Later boss, Steve.”  

* * *

It probably starts because he asked her about the best kind of cactus for his office.  He does want some way to make his space feel less like another stage he’s performing on, and if he spends longer than strictly necessary making her look up varieties for him, she takes it in stride.

She counters by sticking ‘Hi! I’m Cactus America’ to its pot with a heart.  

He leaves a drawing of Cactus America, complete with shield and helmet, on her desk.

-

He picks up a box of chocolate while on a mission in Belgium.  Natasha gives him the eyebrow.

Darcy wastes no time opening it and pushing a piece between her very red lips.  She offers him one with a too-innocent bat of her eyelashes.  Steve chooses to cut his losses and escape.

Escape isn’t enough.

-

He’s working through the Cuban Missile Crisis, the SHIELD version, which reads very different from the wikipedia page.  He glances up and gulps.  As if on cue, the bubble pops and Darcy sets about making a new one, tongue flicking, mouth pursed, cheeks hollowed.  She’s looking at her computer, so Steve busies himself with the blockade before she catches him staring.

It’s lollipops during Kissinger, colorful wands of rock candy as he pieces together the Iranian revolution and sticky caramels while he figures out the Berlin wall.  All he’s been able to do is carry a box of files for her and bring coffee in the morning.  He can’t even do that without bringing Coulson’s decaf in case personally delivering her coffee is too forward.

If anyone were keeping score, she’s definitely winning.

* * *

It’s both a disappointment and a relief when Coulson walks the thirty feet between them to put a mission on his desk.

“Wheels up in two hours.”  He turns to leave and then adds “I’m sure Miss Lewis will take care everything here.”

-

Darcy’s reach is extensive.  Steve recognizes the lightly accented voice that was on the comms with Natasha last night.  The owner is leaning against Darcy’s desk, laughing at her impression of road-kill-god-of-thunder.  Farah takes a cupcake from the box Darcy is guarding as she leaves.  

In his office, Steve finds a small stack of files and a tiny bud on his cactus.

“Hi.  Cupcake?”

Darcy flaps the lid at him.  

Steve is instantly on alert.  He reaches in and picks one anyway.  “You don’t usually share.”  

“I’m in a giving mood.”  She scrapes a line of icing off before popping it in her mouth.  She reaches out and does it again but this time Steve grabs her by the wrist and sucks the smooth blue from her finger.

“How giving?” he asks roughly, taking the box and dropping it somewhere on his desk.

She shuts the door and crashes her sweet red lips against his in answer.  His hands find her waist, he lifts her up and presses her against the door.  He licks a path down her jaw and savors the space between the curve of her neck and the collar of her shirt.

"Coulson's doing PT for another half hour," she informs him breathlessly.  She actually sees a bit of 'the man with a plan' break through the deep heat of Steve Rogers' gaze.  

"Let me take you to dinner tonight," he says, and she's obviously a little put out with the steadiness of his voice.

"Okay."  She stifles a moan when he hikes her skirt up and slides a hand between her legs.

He kisses her tenderly, a gentle counterpoint to the teasing way he dips his fingers inside her, pressing the wet cotton as far as it will go.  She can feel the taut material rub against her clit, dragging a desperate mewl from her throat.  He laughs into her mouth and then pushes her underwear aside.  

He sinks two fingers agonizingly slow into her, each joint makes her flutter around him.  She whines and wriggles but she doesn't have enough leverage to do more than that.  He leaves his hand buried to the knuckle and strokes her soft wet walls until her spine arches and her kisses turn to wild gasps.  

He sets her down carefully and she leans heavily against the door.

"I think I'm winning now."

She smacks him in the arm and adjusts her skirt.  "Pick me up at seven."  

 

He's there at 6:58 with a box of chocolate and a small succulent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cactus america : http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4cb9w0g5C1r233nio1_500.jpg


	11. Hooked on a Feeling - Blue Swede

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where Darcy feeds everybody

Granma’s recipe box sits next to the plush Catbus.  She’s never once opened it.  By rights, it’s still her mother’s until Darcy gets hitched and has offspring, but Granma died right before Darcy went to college and Mom knew Darcy needed to have the box more than the recipe for chocolate silk pie.

Darcy hasn’t cooked anything, really, since Granma died either.  She blames the dorm kitchens for sucking, the internship for not having grocery money, Jane’s mom’s house for having Jane’s mom in it.  The most she’s done is wrap wienies in pre-made bread dough and stick ’em in the oven.  And that was because she felt bad about showing up empty-handed to the house-slash-phallic-monument-warming party.  Officially it’s a ‘welcome Avengers’ to the life chaotic with Tony Stark, why did you accept the crazy man’s invitation to live here, you poor fools.  

“Are you okay?” Darcy asks.

Pepper Potts downs her martini and fishes an olive out with a cheap plastic sword.  “Tony refuses to have workmen, wait staff or people who sweat in the private elevator, which means I had to personally escort the ice sculpture of Iron Man and the large trays of… what is that anyway? up here myself.  Thank god for Captain America.”

Steve, as Captain America insists he be called, flushes a little and says it wasn’t a problem.  He takes another pig in a blanket.  Darcy peers into her giant salad bowl and gapes.

“I’ve been here for twenty minutes, how are they all gone?”

“They’re really good?” offers Steve, weakly.  

Thor agrees heartily, and okay, Darcy should have known.  

* * *

Darcy and Jane are glued to the TV, watching the Avengers.  The Tower feels empty when they’re all out there, even though it’s a huge building with literally hundreds of people below her.  Jane’s ragged, bitten nails dig into her arm again as Thor goes flying past and Darcy decides she’s had enough.

She peels Jane off and stalks into her room.  She comes out and shoves Catbus into Jane’s claws and opens the recipe box.

“Thor’s going to be hungry.  To say nothing of Steve and Clint and Bruce, so use your genius math skills and help me figure out a grocery list.”  She pulls out three cards, a casserole, a veggie and dessert.  “Back home, these feed six.  Or four with leftovers for lunch. How much do we need to multiply by to feed eight when two of them are Steve and Thor?”

Jane clutches Catbus to her chest and turns away from the TV with some effort.  “We have nine.  Tony and Pepper, Clint and Natasha, Steve, Thor, you, me, and Bruce.  Nine.”

“Pepper’s in California.  We are no longer the Nine Riders.  Which is good because I don’t have time for hobbitses.  Now, tell me how many cans of condensed soup we need.”  Darcy turns off the news and switches them to a playlist.  

It's not 'married with children' but she will cook for family.

-

Genius math skills and a helpful robot butler mean they can get everything into the oven at a moment's notice.  So when the Avengers walk in, in varying states of wounded and exhausted, they are greeted with a mad scramble to get everything  _out_ of the oven intact.  Jane trips avoiding a dishcloth and falls into Steve, who steadies her easily.  Clearly having her own personal god has ruined Jane because she literally doesn't _care_ that she was pressed up against a national icon.  Darcy can't even be envious of that, that's just pitiful.

"Where did all of this nonsense come from?" demands Tony.

"The food was delivered.  The dishes were in the cabinets.  Did you just tell someone to get you four of everything and forget about?  You have four of the same gravy boat.  Who does that?  My granma  _collected_ gravy boats, but you have the same boring white gravy boat four times."

Tony takes a fork, stabs the chicken casserole and stuffs a scoop in his mouth.  "I deem this acceptable abuse of personal property.  Feel free to do this all the time."

Natasha takes a napkin and garrotes Tony into sitting properly on his chair.  "Say thank you for dinner."

"Can't breathe."

"Then you should say thank you while you still have oxygen."

"Thanks," Tony wheezes.  

Natasha lets go and slips gracefully into the seat next to him.  "This looks lovely, Darcy."

"Lewis family secrets."

"Twelve cans of cream of broccoli," corrects Jane.

"That's a secret!"  Darcy waves a serving ladle threateningly at Jane.  "No dessert for traitors."

Steve has to choke down a lump of emotion but after that, everything is delicious.  

* * *

Darcy cooks at least twice a week.  She's cajoled Steve into helping because he can do basic multiplication and lift heavy things and he can stir even the most stubborn batter like nobody's business.  

"You just wanted me to help because you're afraid of the chickens," Steve says cheerfully, gesturing with the one stuck on his hand, like some sick sock puppet.

Darcy looks down at her recipe cards.  "I have no problem rubbing the chicken.  You know how long it takes to really get the spices into the skin?  I will be  _intimately_  familiar with this chicken, I feel like sodomizing it beforehand is just... crass."

Steve laughs.  Darcy tries not to look too smug.

-

"Show off."

Steve looks up from his cutting board.  "Pardon?"

"You heard me.  There is a commercially available machine to do that for you."

"Don't like it."  He pushes his perfectly cubed onions into the pan.  "You cut yourself last time."

"Because I was stupid and picked it up the wrong way when I was switching blades.  That's not the food processor's fault."

Steve picks up a potato and starts peeling.  Rather than argue he tells her how Captain America could never be formally disciplined because it would be bad for morale so the Colonel stuck him on kitchen patrol any time he wasn't on a mission.

"Is that how you got so good at this?" she asks, holding up the chunky, irregular remains of his potato.

"I went on a lot of missions," he admits.

-

They're making broth because stupid people get sick and still come into work and then infect the entire lab population (except Bruce).  

Steve brushes against her back while searching the high shelves and she shivers involuntarily.  Thinking about other situations in which Steve is up against her back is definitely why she's not paying close attention when she lifts the giant soup pot.  One handle has been getting steamed by the other stove and it takes her a second to realize it is painfully hot.  She lets go with a small cry that gets more desperate when she realizes the tidal wave of chicken stock is going to hit the open recipe box.  

Steve leans directly in front of the pot so he can reach over and rescue it.  He hisses a little as hot soup washes over his skin.

"Oh my god, are you crazy?" she yelps.  She rushes to the sink and turns the faucet, shoving as many dishcloths under the running water as she can.

"Here."  

Darcy takes the box and drops it heedlessly onto a clear space of counter.  "Take your shirt off!  I know it's cool water for burns, but like, how cool, god, JARVIS HELP ME OUT HERE."

"There is a first aid kit under the sink.  If Captain Rogers would remove his shirt so I can assess the damage?"

"Are you okay?  You didn't get any on you?"  Steve checks her, running his hands up and down her bare arms, which normally would be a sufficient distraction for anything from aliens to the apocalypse but...

"Take your goddamned shirt off."  She uses her best scientist-wrangling voice, which always gets the job done.

Steve sheds the tight cotton without another word and Darcy allows herself a minute to stare.  He turns off the water and takes a damp cloth out of the sink, pressing it to the reddened skin.  The noise he makes, between relief and pain, sends her mind straight to the gutter to wallow in her increasingly detailed fantasies.

"I'll be back to normal in an hour," he assures her.  Totally breaking the spell his whole... chestal area put on her.

She punches him in the arm.  "What the hell was that?"

He waves at the cards spilled on the table.  "It's important to you."

"Not as important as-" she stops mid-snarl.  Steve is looking at her with a wondrously dopey grin on his face.  "What?"

"If you think I'm more important than 'three generations of Gardner kitchen magic' then I think I've got a chance."  

"Chance for-"

Steve leans down and kisses her.


	12. Soul Meets Body - Death Cab for Cutie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> waiting!Steve x timetag!Darcy
> 
> _Somewhere in Time_ is my favorite time-travel-y romance. _Looper_ doesn't count.

“Captain America is hovering.”  Jane tells her this with the straight, no-nonsense tone of someone who deals with aliens and portals on a _good_ day.

“Maybe he’s afraid you’re going to open up a sarlacc pit.”  Darcy picks at the chipped paint on her nails.

“He got here literally three days ago, and now he’s invading my lab and knocking things over with his stupidly big muscles.”

“Okay, first, I don’t think you get to make the call on when muscles are stupidly big.  Second, why the hell are you telling me?”

“Because he’s hovering around _you_.”

“Bullshit.”

Jane glares.  And points to the mostly clear ‘Area 51’, where assorted boxes of Science and Evil taken from destroyed HYDRA bases are being stored until they can be researched.  “Stand there.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s no earthly reason for him to be here, so if he shows up in the next ten minutes, you have to believe me.”

“Fine.”

* * *

Darcy blinks into consciousness and discovers she’s lying in alley trash.  She wrinkles her nose and stands, brushing as much dirt as she can off her skirt.

Wait.

She looks at the cotton dress.  Then she spots a beat-up newspaper under her shoe and falls right back down.

July 1st, 1940, it reads.  

“I hate you, Jane,” she mutters, rubbing her bruised ass.  “So very very much.”

“Well hel-lo, gorgeous.”

Darcy ignores the outstretched hand and uses the wall to get back on her feet.

“I know a place where you can get out of those dirty clothes.”  Asshole slings a too-friendly arm around her shoulder.

“Is it the hospital?” she asks sweetly, ducking under his elbow.  She punches him in the face and knees him in the stomach before he can respond.

Unfortunately she hasn’t learned Black Widow’s trick of fighting in heels so she doesn’t do much but piss him off.  Creepo McDouchebag grabs her roughly by the hair and she yelps in pain.

“Hey!  Leave her alone.”  Something small and blonde tackles her assailant.  Not that it does much good.

“Run!” her would-be savior yells at her, and she manages to get a good look at his face before Jackass drives a fist into it.  It is very recognizably Steve Rogers, although smaller than the one that saved New York, and Darcy knows the last thing she should do is run away.  

“What have you done now, punk?”

And... here comes the savior’s savior.  Great.  Thank god she was actually paying attention to the Cap-recap when it came up.

Bucky Barnes strides into the alley; Darcy is tempted to hum _Hail the Conquering Hero_.  Fuckface finally realizes he’s lost this fight and takes off.

“Are you alright?”  Steve offers her his handkerchief.

“I’m fine, thanks though.”  Darcy takes it and wipes the trickle of blood from his nose.  He stiffens when she puts her hand on his cheek to hold him still.  

“Wow.  Happy birthday to you, Steve.”

Steve glares.  Bucky just laughs and picks up a beaded bag from the floor.

"I believe this is yours."  He presents it to Darcy with a playful flourish.

"Thank you."  She opens it.  Inside is a mess of  _stuff_ with a faint orange glow at its center.  She has a sneaking suspicion what will happen if she touches it.  "And thank _you_.  A lot."  She presses a kiss to Steve's cheek because when the hell else is she going to get to kiss Captain America?  She gives Bucky a little salute and walks out of the alley, reaching into the bag just as she turns the corner. _  
_

* * *

The bench is hard.  And her ass is still bruised.  And this still isn't SHIELD.   _Dammit_. _  
_

She turns to the other guy on the bench and starts.  Steve Rogers, still tiny, not as bloody as the last time they met.

He's clutching a piece of paper; she can see 4F in the corner.

"Are you alright?" she asks, before she can stop herself.

Steve looks up at her, giant blue puppy eyes that make her want to wrap him in a blanket and pet him forever.  "Oh!  From the alley."

"Yes."  She has a brief moment of panic that subsides when she sees the reticule is in her hand.  "Thanks again."

Steve blushes.

"You look sad."

"I... I guess I am," says Steve with a bitter laugh.  He smooths out the paper.  "I tried to enlist."

"Good."

The stormy look on his face clears for a second before crashing back down.  "Y'think?  They have enough men, _real_ men, they don't need me."

"Yes they do.  They will."

"That a fact?"  He gives a look, half hope, half disbelief.

"I remember what you did for me in that alley like it _just_ happened.  You're the guy I want fighting for me, for my country, not that asshole.  Shit, language.  Sorry."  

Steve goes pink again.  "I don't like bullies," he says steadily, despite his flush.

"Me neither.  But they don't care whether we like 'em or not."

Steve looks down at the form and tears it in half.  Darcy smiles and slips away, dipping a finger into her bag.

* * *

She's in a restaurant, super crowded and very loud.  People are speaking French.  And Italian.  And English.  Yay.

The purse is still attached to her, and if past is prologue, Steve Rogers is somewhere around here.  She winds the strap around her wrist to make sure she doesn't lose it.  

She hears someone say Stark and follows the thread of conversation to a table toward the back.  Some guy is telling Captain America and his friends what happened after he jumped out of a plane behind enemy lines and exactly how pissed the COs were.  Someone wolf-whistles, sharp and high against the steady thrum of conversation.  Everyone looks at her.  Including Steve.

She blows him a kiss and ducks into the kitchen.  She's fumbling with the bag when a hand closes on her shoulder.

"How are you here?" Steve Rogers demands.

"Told you they'd need you.  I like to gloat."  She finally untangles the strap enough to get the mouth open.  The  _thing_ is glowing dimmer than before.  She can only hope it has enough juice to get her back.  She steps away from him, and lets the blackness take her.

* * *

It's cold.  And dark.

"Steve?"

"You again."

She squints and she can make out a figure draped over a blinking control panel.

"Yup.  You miss me?"  

"You should go."  He sounds  _so_ broken.  "The plane is sinking into the ice."

"You don't want to come with me?"  Probably wouldn't even work, but it breaks her heart that he'd rather stay here.

"Where?"

"Someplace where we're not sinking in ice?"

Steve doesn't say anything.  She's not sure there is anything left to say.

"I don't even know your name."  

Oh, guess there was something left.

"Darcy.  It's really cold.  You think they have blankets around here?"

"What?"

"Blankets.  Evil gets the chills too."  

"You should go."

"Should.  Won't."  Darcy tries to find a light switch and hears the slow clomp of boots trailing after her.  Then a muffled thump.  Gravity finally beats super soldier.  She kneels down next to him.  "Steve?"

"Tired.  I'll be fine.  Go."

"You will be fine.  Just have a nap."  Darcy bites back a sob.  

"You going to be there when I wake up?"  His voice is hazy.

"Yes.  Promise.  Sweet dreams."  She takes his hand and touches the thing.

* * *

"Oh my god, you're so cold, please don't be dead."

Her hand is empty.  The stupid tangle of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff is clutched in her fingers, but her hand, curled around Steve's, is empty.

"Not dead.  Don't want to go on the cart.  I think I'll go for a walk."  Darcy shivers and curls into herself, feeling the tears prickling behind her eyes.

"I need a medic!  Here."  Jane sheds her plaid over-shirt and tries to stuff Darcy's arm into the sleeve.  Darcy doesn't even bother explaining why that won't work. _  
_

"What happened?" 

"Captain America bumped into a box, and it fell.  On you."

"Story of my life.  How long was I-?"

"Couple minutes- oof!  Hey!"  

"Darcy?"  

"Steve!  I'm sorry, I _tried_.  I did."  Steve wraps his arms around her, and it's something like  _warm_ finally.  She sniffles on his shoulder.

"Shhshh, I know, I got you."

"I didn't want to leave you there to wake up alone, but it didn't work.  I'm so sorry..."

"Not alone now.  Unless you slip away again."

Darcy shakes the thing.  "Nah, needs batteries."  She drops it and burrows into Steve's neck.  

"I've been waiting forever," he whispers.

"Baby, I'm worth it."  

"I know."


	13. Carmen - Lana Del Ray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> high school story

She still has two weeks to do an assignment she should have started two months ago, so she needs to find whatever books are there and cart them home _now_.  The girl tapping away at the ancient computer is singularly unhelpful, perhaps recognizing Darcy as another stupid procrastinator, pointing to the kids' section when she asks where she can find books on Norse mythology.  Darcy suffers through ten agonizing minutes waiting for the public computer, more senile than the other, to spit out the Dewey decimals she’s after.  

-

Of course the books she wants are on the top shelves.  She peers around but doesn’t see a stepladder or anything she can use in place of one.  She decides not to waste her time with the staff.  She’s fallen off enough trees in her life.  She can handle being two feet from the ground.  She climbs onto the shelf, getting dirt on her hands and pants as she does.  Whatever is supposed to be circulating air down here is clearly broken.  

Someone is watching her.  She assumes it’s the librarian, or someone else in her coven, but it’s their fault she’s getting footprints on the furniture so she digs her fingers into the wood and tries to pry out the translated Edda book she absolutely needs.  

She manages to displace about twenty years of dust in the process, but she triumphs over poor storage planning with a smug ‘ha!’ that stirs up the dust motes even more.  

“Congratulations, Darcy, you are now a _dirty_ stupid procrastinator,” she mutters.  “How great would it be if the shelf fell because you’re also _fat_?”

“Not very, since I’d be under it.”

Darcy notably does not fall, drop her books, swoon like an idiot, or even say 'fuck'.  She is quite proud of herself for calmly turning to the narrow gap between the stacks and the outside wall ( _seriously_ poor storage planning) to glare.  

At the track-and-field star (literally no one else can make running, jumping and throwing such an art).

"And you're not fat."  

Steve Rogers, ladies and gentlemen.

"I'm a teenage girl, don't question my body issues," Darcy huffs, reaching for vol. II.  "Can I help you?"  

"I was wondering if I could help you."  The line is worthy of Stark or Barnes, but when Steve says it... it doesn't seem douchey at all.

"Not unless you want to write my paper on mythological archetypes and how they've been hijacked by Jesus."

"Umm..."

Darcy spots the Lindow book and spider-steps along the shelf, kicking up yet more dirt.  Steve shuffles closer, hands hovering like there's a forcefield preventing contact until she's actually in danger.

"Really, Lewis, let me get a stool-"

"Calm your tits, Speedy, I'm done."  She clambers down and poses like a gymnast.  "And she sticks the landing!  Wait.  You know my last name?" she asks, confused.  Sure they've been in the same schools since fifth grade, but it's not like they ever  _talked_.  

"You were umm on the soccer team-"

"Til I got hit with the puberty stick, yep."

"And almost every time I looked, you were wearing the jersey so yeah... Lewis.  Number 9."  Steve Rogers turns red to his ears and tries to hide it behind his art history books.  The motion gives him a glance at his watch.  "Shit, I've got to get to practice.  The stepladders are over there," he points to a dark corner that is Scooby Doo levels of suspicious, "I'll see you around."  He runs off, more frightened rabbit than 500m record breaker, leaving Darcy a little dazed and very dusty.

* * *

"How much do you remember about Steve Rogers?"  

Jane looks up from her game and then yelps.  "I died!"

"You were shooting at an alien.  He shot back.  I kind of think you deserved it."

Jane pushes away from her computer and scooches her rolly chair closer to the bed, which has been taken over by Darcy and her 'research'.  Darcy is still trying to decide which highlighters to use, so Jane doesn't feel bad about shoving the books out of the way and jabbing her friend in the ribs.  "What the hell do you care what I remember about Steve Rogers?  We have a _pact_.  No crushing on jocks.  Brains and basket cases only."  

"Chill, drama llama.  Ran into him at the library.  Apparently he remembers me from middle school."

"Dude,  _all_ the boys remember you from middle school."

"Yeah, but he was looking at my back, not my boobs.  All I remember is he was adopted by the Barnes family in sixth grade and once he got some TLC, the puberty stick was super nice to him."

"Riiight, he used to get bullied a lot, because he was an orphan.  And then because he was a charity case.  And then because he didn't let them bully anyone else.  It was usually just the one boy who started it.  After he left, no one else bothered.  What was that kid's name.  Gilbert or some shit."

"Gilmore.  I can kinda understand.  With a name like that, you'd rather be the bully than the victim.  Hah, you remember when I landed a ball right in his face and broke his nose?  Good times."

"Detention is not a good time.  But supposedly Tony Stark's party will be.  Betty says Bruce says Tony is dragging him, so..."

"Yeah yeah.  Bruce needs Betty because Tony is crazy, Betty needs you because Bruce and Tony get easily distracted by battle robots, and you need me because Betty has a crazy early curfew."  Darcy sighs.  "Okay fine, but only because I have _so_ much pity for that girl."

"Her dad is kind of awful," agrees Jane, going back to her alien massacre.

* * *

Darcy has to lend Jane shoes, because Jane doesn't think about this kind of thing until it's too late.  

Jane trips and slams all 90lbs of her bodyweight into the big beefy blonde foreign exchange student.  His red Solo cup goes flying as he catches her, pelting everyone with Froot Loops.

"What is this shit, Thor?" Tony Stark demands.  "I have generously offered up my dad's liquor cabinet, why-"

"I've been drinking since I was ten," he answers dismissively.  "Your American breakfast foods hold much more appeal."

"Have you tried Cookie Crisp?" asks Jane, steadying herself on Thor's arm.  "Or Fruity Pebbles?"  Jane starts listing all her favorites, of which there are a lot, oblivious to the people staring in disbelief.

"She really doesn't look like she eats that much."  Steve Rogers pops up with a plate of chips and dip.

Darcy shrugs.  "She's a cereal junkie.  And a terrible person to have at a slumber party because she needs a bowl at midnight.  Like a Gremlin."  She watches Thor lead Jane to a beach chair on the deck.  Jane goes all starry-eyed, in a manner usually reserved for computer games and trips to the planetarium.  "Way to go, bitch.  What happened to  _we have a pact_?" she mutters.

Steve offers his plate to her.  Darcy eyes him and the plate and then scoops a huge chunk of guac onto a chip and shoves it in her mouth.  Steve just smiles and lets her mooch the rest of the night.

And then, when Jane doesn't reappear by 11.40, Steve drives her home.  

Darcy throws the pact out the window and they totally make out in her driveway.


	14. Can't Take My Eyes Off You - The Four Seasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where people try to set them up

"Ayako in Acquisitions." 

Steve runs faster.

Sam gives Natasha a pained look.  

-

"Callie from HR."

"Don't they have rules about that?" Barton asks from the ceiling.

"Wouldn't apply."

Steve sighs into his sandwich.

-

"Foster's intern.  Darcy."

Steve stiffens in a way that has nothing to do with the headlock Thor has him in.

"What of Darcy?" demands Thor.

"I think Cap should take her to dinner."  Natasha executes a lazy handstand on the bar.

"And then to bed," adds Clint, who is spotting her.

Thor ponders this.  Steve manages to get his arm around a knee and  _pulls_.  Thor loses his balance.

Steve escapes to the shower.  But not before Thor gives him his blessing.

-

"Chocolate, dude," says Clint with the certainty of a man who has gone on many a first date.

"You too?" Steve despairs.

Clint shrugs.  "Bored.  Stark won't let me use the robots for target practice."

"If I let you use them, I have to let _them_ use _you_."  Tony points at the ceiling.  "And it will be such a bitch getting your bloody remains out of the vents.  What do you need chocolate for?"

"I don't." "Wooing Lewis."

"Barton, you poor deluded bastard, chocolate nothing.  Coffee is the way to go."

"I hate you all."  Steve gets off the couch with a huff.  His dramatic exit is somewhat ruined by the fact that he has to turn off the news program, straighten the cushions and take his bowl to the sink.  Because Steve Rogers is a considerate housemate. 

-

"You are sick."  

"He needs a little push."  Natasha doesn't look up from the security footage she probably shouldn't have access to.  On screen, Steve is bringing breakfast to the scientists.  

Sam actually laughs.  "Man jumps out of airplanes for fun.  He doesn't need pushing."

Jane clings to her mess of papers until Bruce drags her chair away from her desk.  Darcy digs around in the box and presents Jane with a jelly donut before helping herself to a sticky chocolate eclair.  

"You'd think that, wouldn't you."

Darcy turns to stop Jane from getting strawberry jelly all over her research, so only the camera sees the look Steve gives her.

Sam scratches his chin.  "Okay, but to be fair, for anyone other than 'the girl who tazed Thor', being Captain America is all the game you need."

Natasha switches the screen to True Facts About the Owl.

"Ahem."  

"Hi Bruce." 

Bruce holds up a slip of paper.  "I found this on the bottom of my cup."  It has  _d_ _inner Friday? - Steve_  written on it. _  
_

Natasha's expression never changes.  "Neapolitan frap with extra whip and Italian drizzle?"

"I'm enjoying being back in civilization.  I try not to have too much caffeine on days I deal with Tony.  And not that I condone this, but Darcy usually gets chai."

-

"Lewis, how big are your boobs?"

"Stark!"  Steve gets denser and squarer, and Tony is kind of concerned he's going to be thrown out the window again.

"It's fine, Steve.  Tony is helping.  Even though it _really_ doesn't sound like it."  Darcy points to the bar stool next to her.  

Tony will not admit to 'scurrying', but he does move faster than usual.  He puts his tablet on the counter and makes very sure Steve can see the faceless 'dress form' on the screen.

Darcy taps on it for a few minutes.  Steve watches as the figure gets more Darcy-shaped and then a sidebar of designers pops up.

"See, not Tony being a creep.  This time.  It's for that fundraiser next month.  Apparently I can't just show up in my prom dress.  If it would even fit." 

"I need everyone on point with your best schmooze-game."  Tony scrubs a hand through his hair.  "The first couple times, yeah, it was technically my fault part of LA and then Monaco and maybe a little bit of New York went to shit, but I can't cough up  _every_ time there's an Incident now.  Pepper will get custody of my company and then where will I be?"

Steve tunes out the Tony Stark rant on How To Be a Responsible Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist.  Darcy pokes her tongue between her teeth as she tries to figure out whether this Bérri person has ever done a dress that wasn't a windsock.  It's very cute.

"Tony, have you- oh hello, Darcy, Steve."  Pepper glides past with a bright smile and Steve is amazed when the waterfall of words trickles to a stop.  "Looking at designers?  I usually pick three or four and make them fight to the death.  Metaphorically."

"Yeah, but they  _want_  to do it for you.  I'm just an intern.  And I'm not a size 0.  Anywhere."

Pepper notes the outrage on Steve's face at the wobble in Darcy's voice.  "Those pictures are just to give you an idea of their skills and sense of style," she explains soothingly.  "They're going to get your measurements and a picture of you and they're going to be  _inspired_  because you're lovely and fun and I absolutely need you to be there because you're more than just an intern.  And if they don't appreciate that, I will feed them to Jarvis.  Okay?"

"Okay."  Darcy takes the tablet and shuffles to her room.  

Steve waits a beat, then says "just shut up" to Tony and takes off after her.

-

"This is a big limo."  Darcy is wedged in her seat, kicking her legs to watch the crystals on her shoes sparkle.  It makes little rainbows dance on the sapphire blue gown.

"Yeah," manages Steve despite what the jewel-studded bustier is doing to his brain.  The black straps going behind her neck just serve to keep drawing his gaze to her cleavage.

"I mention this because it would fit all the Avengers and their arm candy," she looks up from her feet and Steve jerks his head so his line of sight intersects with her face and not something less... decorous, "but somehow it's just the two of us.  And we're not moving."

She pulls on the door, which doesn't open.  Steve remembers the panel of polished cherry wood.  Last time the Avengers attended an event, Tony and Happy spent ten minutes arguing about how drive-thrus were not meant to accommodate twenty-five foot long vehicles.

He finds the intercom button and pushes it.  "Hello?"

"Cap'n Rogers, Miss Lewis.  How can I help you?"  Happy sounds like his usual cheerful self.

"Have you been threatened this evening, by any chance?" asks Steve.  "Say, by a guy in a tux or a lady with an arsenal?"

"Yep, but then I got ring-side tickets to Madison Square Garden."

"What exactly for?" snaps Darcy.

"Wait twenty minutes, then head to the event."  Happy refuses to say anything else.

"Better than the time I was locked in a closet," Steve tries to joke.  Since they're only kind of being kidnapped, it's not worth it to break down the door.

Darcy grunts and starts rummaging, muttering something about Tony Stark's version of seven minutes in heaven.  "You want a juice box?  There's trail mix-"

"You look amazing," Steve blurts out.  "Sorry, I just... you really do."

Darcy blushes and scoots closer to him.  "Thanks.  And thanks for waiting.  I really appreciate it.  Between aliens, Intern, more aliens, HYDRA and well, Avengers, it's been a _weird_ few years.  But Thor won't stop telling me how great you are and Natasha has been trying to figure out if I'm a lesbian, and Clint keeps coming up with fun activities that he just so happens to have _two_ tickets for and Steve's probably never been... Tony Stark just locked me in a limo with Captain America, and somehow it's completely normal, so I think I'm ready."  

She takes a deep breath and folds her hands primly in her lap.  "Steve Rogers, to answer the question you asked me four months and twelve days ago, I would _love_ to go on a date with you."

Steve smiles, and she feels it warm her to her toes.  "That's wonderful, Darcy.  You know, Tony Stark is throwing a party tonight and I _just so happen_ to have two tickets."


	15. Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fake boyfriend trope - post Age of Ultron

"Hi Steve.  You look very nice.  We're dating now."

Steve jumps a little and turns to find Darcy, who also looks very nice in a smart blazer-skirt combination.  If it weren't for the sloth pinned to her lapel, she could be any one of the blandly professional fundraisers Pepper hired for the new Avengers.

"Don't you think you should take me to dinner first?"

"We're only dating long enough for me to get rid of Dickless Wonder over there.  After that, I'm breaking up with you because I know you're cheating on me with the Declaration of Independence, I just haven't said anything because of the children."

Steve goes stiff and pulls her closer.  "Who?" he growls.

"You can't have him thrown out.  He's the CEO of some big company and is on the board for the committee.  Really, I just need you to lean a little more, and I'll 'remind' you that I'm working and then you give him the 'death-to-HYDRA' stare.  That's the one."

"What do you mean lean?"

"Invade my personal space.  Like Normandy.  I'd say do the thing Tony does to Pepper, except she's taller than him and it doesn't work.  It's super cute that he tries though."

Steve thinks about the way Bucky would angle himself to talk to a girl, and copies it, leaning so his upper body is close enough to touch if she wanted.  She raises a hand.  Steve feels a flash of phantom heat, but then she pats him on the cheek and steps around him.

"Gold star.  I'll buy you an ice cream later." 

* * *

"Miss, you can't be here-"

"The fact that I  _am_  means yes I can.  Captain America is expecting me."  Darcy debates whether hitting the security guy with the box will be more satisfying than hitting Steve with it.  It's Steve's  _fault_ , but Jacob here would actually feel it.   _  
_

Jacob looks less than impressed with her reasoning.

"Listen, he called me an hour ago to say he would be back from his super top secret mission in time to do this, so could I please bring this box of signed Captain America merch to the TV studio for him.  I'm here, presumably he's here but I've been calling for twenty minutes and at this point I'm just going to tell him it's your fault those poor little orphans aren't going to get their..." she opens the flap of the box and reads off the label "Captain America action figure with shield launching action.  Kapow."

Jacob reaches for his walkie-talkie.  She totally has enough juice in her taser to stop him but it's buried in her bag somewhere.

"Darcy!"  

"Yo, Man with The Plan.  Explain your plan to the lowly civvies.  Be sure to include why I had to wait out here with Jake for half an hour because you didn't answer your goddamn phone."

"Sorry, it gave up the ghost after I got here."  Steve is being trailed by a spiky-looking flunky with a PDA.  "Thanks for this.  She's coming up with me."

"She can't-" the studio employees chorus.

"She's my girlfriend.  She's going to wait in the green room."

Tiny gourmet donuts may not have been worth it, but the expression on security-Jake's face totally is.

* * *

The bitch from _Race and Ethnicity in American Politics_  punctuates her latest comment with a stupid little smiley face.  Darcy hasn't unfriended her yet because of that whole 'freedom of speech includes freedom to disagree' thing and morbid fascination.  She doesn't think of herself as a masochist, but looking at the 28-comments-and-counting argument she's having on facebook... it's a little hard to say with certainty now.  

"Friday, you gotta cut me off before I hijack the Quinjet, hunt her down and beat her with the Samoyan textbook."

Friday switches her tab to a video of Oskar the blind kitten.  "Science has shown cats reduce the urge to feed trolls on the internet."

"I thought the first rule of the internet was never read the comments.  You want a sandwich?"  Steve walks past the couch and starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

"No thanks.  And yes, but it's hard to ignore the comments when they're all over my feed.  Crap, she works at the U.N..  FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK."  

"You sound like a chicken," Steve says, mildly disapproving.  He makes her a small sandwich anyway.

"She's going to be at the Sokovia thing because she works there.  I'm going to be there because I'm shadowing Maria who is the subject matter expert on the Avengers.  Anita's going to say something, and I'm going to react and she'll counter with some argument that kind of makes sense but is also incredibly dismissive of anyone who was ever middle class, couldn't get straight As because we had to wait tables for fucking food money or didn't get a job offer right after graduation in the field we actually majored in.  And then I'm going to stab her in the eye with my shoe."

Darcy breathes heavily.  Friday fills her screen with red pandas.  

Steve draws a happy face next to her sandwich in mustard before handing it to her.

-

During the recess, Darcy slips out for some fresh air.  Wanda appears from behind a tree.

"Jeezus!" Darcy gasps.  "You're dressed like Carmen Sandiego, how are you so sneaky?"

Wanda looks down at her bright red coat and then tilts her head inquiringly.  "I don't understand."

"Not important.  What's up?  No one is actively anti-Sokovia, so you don't need to fill the hall with spiders.  Please  _please_ don't fill the hall with spiders."

"You were nervous.  We brought you this."  Wanda holds up a paper bag.

"I didn't know you were friends with terrorists."

Darcy takes the bag carefully before turning around.  "Your definition of terrorist might need some updating.  This is Wanda.  She's an Avenger.  She prevented an extinction level event.  Wanda, this is Anita.  Her greatest accomplishment was graduating with honors.  It's been pretty much downhill from there."

"Oh, Darcy.  We haven't really talked in a while, so maybe you don't know that I'm engaged.  He's the son of a senator-"

"I had to park the bike a block away because everything is reserved for the diplomats.  Hello," Steve gives Anita sunny smile.  "Steve Rogers."

"You're Captain America."  Anita goggles.  It is very unattractive.  Unlike Steve.  Darcy feels much better.

"Sometimes.  Mostly I'm Darcy's boyfriend."  Wanda actually smiles at the choking noise Anita makes.  

"Please don't tell anyone," Darcy adds, fluttering her lashes.  "Otherwise I'm not going to be able to walk down the street without cameras and questions.  I want to be known for _my_ work, not his."

Anita turns a delightful shade of grey. 

* * *

"Your boyfriend is in trouble."  Wanda nudges Darcy with her elbow.

Darcy squints in the direction of Wanda's finger.  Steve has been cornered by a pair of Swedish models.  They don't seem to understand English and they are very touchy.  Darcy feels a swell of anger and envy.

"I suppose I should help him out.  Can't let the Scandinavians defile our national treasure."

 -

" _There_ you are."  Darcy shoves the blonde toothpick out of the way with her hip and twines her arms around Steve's.  "Making new friends?" she asks with a poisonous smile at the brunette.  

"This is um... I didn't really catch their names, they've been jabbering at me in Danish.  Or Swedish.  I can't get them to stop."  He looks so pitiful.  The blonde one tries to squeeze between Darcy and Steve and she might actually fit.

"You know what they say.  If you can't beat 'em, run."  Darcy pulls on his arm and they escape through the fire exit.  They pause one floor up until they hear the Norse-babble come through the door.  Steve drags her to the roof in something like panic.

Darcy holds back her laughter until the door shuts.  Then she collapses in a fit of giggles.  "Not one of your braver moments, Cap."

"Lose the battle, win the war."  Steve slides down next to her.

"You realize we're going to be up here until the party ends.  I don't think we have the resources for this war."

Steve sheds his jacket and drapes it around her shoulders.  "I can get us out.  For now though, it's not that bad."

Darcy lets her head fall back so she can look at the sky.  Thor is out there somewhere.  So is the rest of his vision.  "Steve?"

"Yes, Darcy?"

"You want to get dinner sometime?"

"I absolutely do."


	16. Sleeping with a Friend - Neon Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vampirebestie!Steve x sassyYAheroine!Darcy

“You’re shitting me.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Captain America is a vampire.”  Darcy drops into the uncomfortable SHIELD chair and wonders again _how_ this is her life.

“Mostly?  The serum was a variant of the vampire virus.  One a little less...”

“Abomination in the eyes of God?  Makes sense, can't have the face of America bursting into flame on the Western Front.  So do you identify as undead American or is this some kind of weird Underworld thing?”

“I wouldn’t have burst into flame,” objects Steve.  “I don’t understand the rest of what you said... you’re taking this  _really_ well-”

“My last boss proved aliens/gods are out there, so why not vampires too?”  Darcy picks up the SHIELD folder.  Inside is her mission-directive; feed Captain America whenever necessary because you’re not on drugs, recreational or otherwise, and because we’re not risking active agents with anemia when we have this tagalong intern that only works three hours a day, don't think we don't know you're playing Farmville over there.  

There’s also a yellowing report signed by one Dr. A Erskine, slightly crabbed handwriting details the science behind the ‘traditional’ vampire and why it was a good basis for a super soldier program.  She skims but the long and short is Steve can get calories from actual food and handle daylight okay, but he still needs the sanguinary smoothie a couple times a week.

She looks at him, figuring anything Captain America will personally pitch her is probably not that bad or really fucking terrible, and in either case she should just go with it.

Steve gives her a hesitant smile.  And yeah, maybe it's the blue eyes that seal the deal.  She slaps her name down at the bottom of the mission directive and hands it over.  “As long you’re not going to suck me dry, that there is me giving you informed consent.”

“8 fluid ounces max, supplemented with the bagged stuff,” promises Steve.

“You are the nicest mosquito I ever met.  So um… was it worth it?”  

“I think so.  I guess I’m always going to be dependent on somebody.  Now though, I actually get to go out and do some good.”  Steve gets a faraway look, a mix of wry humor and sadness.  “Blood was easier to find than food on the front.  Made me pretty popular, though they never put that in the comic books.”

* * *

“You’re okay if I get garlic bread right?” asks Darcy for the fifth time, hovering over it with her mouse.

“Only if you get some for me too.”  

Darcy gives him an unamused glare.

“It’s _fine_.  They ran all the tests after the procedure.  I’m fine with garlic.  I _like_ garlic.”

-

Darcy watches eagle-eyed as Steve pokes the garlic bread to prove it won't hurt him, before stuffing it in his face.  She watches him swallow and after a few minutes grudgingly agrees garlic bread is not a problem.  Except that he's  _eaten all of it_.

"I told you to get extra."

"I _did_.  Ugh, only Gary Oldman and his butt hair can comfort me now."

Steve waits til she’s finished her three slices of pizza, when she is sluggish and warm and giggling over terrible accents.  He brushes the hair away from her neck gently and ties it up in a messy bun.  She feels the edge of his teeth and shivers against him involuntarily before the pleasant heavy feeling takes over.  

It doesn’t seem like very long before he digs his chin against her shoulder and fishes an alcohol swab out of her purse.  

She still finds it hilarious that the vampire is paranoid of infection.  She can’t laugh out loud though, since it’s a holdover from when Steve Rogers could easily have died from the wrong germ, and she likes Steve.  Too much to make fun of who he used to be.  She pats him on the cheek and falls asleep snuggled against her stuffed penguin.

* * *

"I don't think you should go on this mission."  Darcy peers at his screen, even though she really doesn't have the clearance.

"What's wrong with it?  I'm getting tired of HYDRA too, but it looks like a standard op."  

"Europe in general.  It... has a lot of churches," she whispers.

"I'm aware," Steve whispers back.  "I've been there before."

"But there're crosses and guys with holy water and an abundance of angry mobs."

"Only one of those things worries me.  Mostly because pitchforks are an inconvenience."

Darcy frowns.  And holds up two fingers overlapped in the shape of the cross.  

Steve raises an eyebrow then tries to hiss.  He sounds like a particularly asthmatic cat.  Darcy flicks him in the nose.

"I guess the 'power of belief' thing isn't going to work either, given how hard HYDRA believes in its objets d'cult.  Thanks for nothing Hollywood," she muses.  "Okay, when you come back, we watch _Dead and Loving It_."

* * *

Darcy pops up behind him while he's shaving.  "You have a reflection."  She is very disappointed.  Then she realizes he's shirtless and decides being able to see him  _and_ his reflection is totally worth disappointment.

Steve pushes her out and she hears the lock click into place.

"Rude."

"Almost as rude as walking into my apartment and bathroom without knocking?" she hears through the door.

"You're a vampire.  You invited me in.  That's good forever."

The door opens.  Unfortunately, Steve has his shirt on.  Fortunately, he's still buttoning it.  "I think you have that backwards."

"It's double standards like this that make vampires so unpopular."  She thinks for a second.  "Among other things.  How was Europe?"

"Not bad.  I was about to head to your place."

Darcy hums.  "Not bad?  Is that Steve for 'five extra days wandering around some unnamed countryside trying to avoid being staked and slash or shot'?  You missed Rocky Horror.  I got you a costume and everything."

"Sorry.  I'll make it up to you."

"I know.  But there's four days to the next showing, so for now... black-and-white bootleg double feature!"  She pulls a jewel case out of her bag and hands it to him.  "Where are we setting up?"

Steve takes the case.  It has _Dracula (1931)_ and _Nosferatu (1922)_ written in pink sharpie.

* * *

 

Darcy is pretty sure she wasn't imagining things the last five times she's opened up an artery.  Steve's super-saliva has a numbing property, but he might not realize that even though it doesn't hurt, she can kind of feel what's going on and he's been _lingering_.  Unrequited-crush lingering, not really-good-dessert-that-I-don't-want-to-box-for-later lingering.  Except that it's not an unrequited crush, and if Steve were anyone else, she'd think he was abusing his vampire powers of seduction. 

Jane, who has also fallen victim to some supernaturally hunky blonde's abs, giving her a sympathy pat on the head and tells her sort the atmospheric stability data by the end of the day, please.

Darcy does it with an hour to spare and runs away in case the printer does that thing again.  Steve is writing up some report for Hill when she crawls into his lap and sticks her tongue down his throat.  She thinks she actually tastes shock for a second before he is enthusiastically returning the favor. 

"So, we've basically been dating for months, I think we can skip straight to sex," Darcy informs him when they pause to catch their breath.  She wiggles her hips encouragingly.

"Would you think less of me if I agree with you?" asks Steve, arching into her.

"No thinking going on right now."  Darcy pulls her shirt off.  "Do you..." she points at her neck.

Steve needs a second to tear his eyes away from her breasts.  "I'll be fine."  He brings his hands to her waist.

"You don't need a little something to... awaken Vlad the Impaler?"

" _What?_ "

"Blood.  You know, to fuel your pocket rocket."  Darcy can't keep a straight face.  "Given everything else the process _enlarged_ , you probably need a lot of-"

"You should stop talking while I still want to sleep with you."  Despite that, his fingers are still playing around her ribs.

"Vampires are supposed to be charming.  Maybe it's just the French ones.  Carmilla, Lestat, Jean-Claude... you still wanna sleep with me?"

Steve picks her up and carries her to the bedroom in response.


	17. Dirty Desire - Utada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> notCaptainAmerica!Steve x stripper!Darcy

Tony and Clint are surprised Steve is in when Bucky suggests it.  To be fair, Bucky's known him forever, and just because he's polite and respectful doesn't mean he's boring.  

Clint makes a comment about the quiet ones and they laugh and agree to meet after work.

Steve feels a little thrill handing the cash for his cover to the woman at the door.  Part of it is anticipation and but most is actually from having money that isn't reserved for rent or food or gas or the donation box in Sam's office at the VA.

-

Inside smells of several conflicting perfumes, colognes, liquor and industrial cleaner.  There's a prominent sign right by the entry reminding patrons there is no smoking as mandated by the state of New York.  The second thing Steve notices is the very beautiful redhead doing slow, controlled feats of athleticism on a pole.  He walks right into Clint, who is also staring.

The girl guiding them to a table gives them a wink and asks if they'd like refreshments.  Or change for a twenty.

The two acts that follow don't spark more than vague interest, though Bucky manages to entice one over to get a better look at her tattoo.  The next one though... Steve feels his throat close up.

She's dressed like a school teacher, kind of, short white blouse with absolutely nothing underneath and an even shorter grey skirt, all topped with a severe bun and a pair of cat eye glasses.  She gyrates as she takes her glasses off and brings them between her breasts, hooking the leg through her shirt and undoing the closure with a little snap of her wrist.  Everyone's eyes are glued to the plastic as it drags over her creamy flesh until it meets another button.  That one flies open too, and the hooting from Clint's side of the table gets louder.

Steve turns to take a sip of his drink at button number four and he happens to catch a glance of her face.  She's biting her lower lip in a practiced pout, but Steve can't help noticing the way she's squinting slightly into the distance.  As someone who's needed glasses since he was six, he recognizes that expression from his mirror.

Tony is going wild and Steve realizes with a start that Ms. Kitty has lost her shirt.  She puts her glasses back on to start working her way out of the skirt, generous breasts bouncing with each movement.  She surveys the audience, smoldering dark eyes that could well be picturing all of them naked as much as they are her.  

"You've been  _very_ naughty," she announces, delicately stepping to the edge of the stage, naked but for her heels.  "See me after class."  She pauses next to the bachelor party, right by the stage, and gives the groom-to-be a smile.  "I'm available for private tutoring as well."

Tony yells something about raising his D.  Ms. Kitty glances back and Steve sees the exact moment she realizes Tony is waving twenties.

-

"Let me guess," Ms. Kitty purrs as she crawls onto Steve's lap, smiling at his hands locked to his sides because Bucky and Clint are practically spreadeagled on either side of him and he really doesn't want them in his space right now.  "Your friends dragged your poor virginal ass here to show you a good time.  Because they're such good guys."

"We deserve to be sainted," agrees Bucky from under Krystal's cloud of platinum blonde hair.

Kitty laughs a little and gives Steve a playful wink at odds with the sensuous surge of her hips against him.  "Couldn't tell you how many of those we have in here."

"Can't count and strip at the same time?" asks Steve with a smile of his own.

She moves her weight to her knees to lean forward, and he aches with the loss of her until he feels the swell of her breasts sliding up his chest.  "Not  _stripping_ at that point," she informs him breathily, pouring _invitation_ over him, barely an inch away from his mouth.

Steve grasps at her knees instinctively and immediately lets go with a strangled apology.  Her legs clenched together, around his hips, when he touched her, and she's so _close_ to him he could feel her whole body stiffen.  She doesn't leave or call the bouncer but it takes a few beats for the tension to drain away. _  
_

"Didn't mean to.  You're very good at your job," he offers contritely when he's a little more coherent.

She drops carefully back into his lap, and grins when he curses under his breath as the pressure above his cock returns.  She opens her mouth but whatever she's about to say turns into a yelp.  She looks over her shoulder and glares at Bucky's retreating hand.

"You okay?" Steve asks immediately.

"Yeah, just a pinch.  Which'll cost him twenty bucks," she says louder.

"That ass is worth fifty."  Bucky hands her a twenty anyway.

"I'll let you do the other cheek for a full hundred then," Kitty growls mockingly.

Steve is sure it'd be worth every penny.

* * *

Darcy is mentally tallying up as she heads out of the subway station.  Table 38 was very generous and Blondie was super sweet, which is nice even though it doesn't make up for the bachelor party bros who were stupid and gross and cheap to boot.  She made quite a bit more than usual which inevitably means something is about to blow up, like her sink or the fridge, and eat all her extra cash.

Yet again she curses the gods of academia, who saw fit to give her a terrible graduate adviser who phrased the offer like her tuition would be covered _and_ she'd have a scholarship on top of the pitiful stipend, but actually meant her tuition would be covered  _by_  a scholarship on top of the pitiful stipend, living expenses be damned.  God, just thinking about it makes her angry all over again.  

She spots a neon OPEN sign and heads straight for it like a bug to a zapper.  She's halfway in the door before bothering to look around and see if it's pizza, burgers or gyros.  

It turns out to be burgers.  And milkshakes.  And Blondie, who is staring at her like Marley's ghost.  Luckily his mouth is empty, because as hot as he is, he would be ruined forever if she had to look at half-chewed cow.  

Remembering his strong hands on her legs, stroking the ticklish spot behind her knee sends a tingle of warmth down her spine.  Not enough to distract her from food, but it does make her forget her asshole adviser.  A little.

"Hi," she chirps at the sleepy looking girl behind the cashier.  "Number 5 and a vanilla malt shake, please."  The girl passes her a chipped plastic number and rings her up.  Darcy considers the empty chairs and decides  _screw_ _it_.

She slides into the booth across the aisle from Blondie, who is studiously looking down at his plate.  Ball's in his court now.  Though she does tease him a little, playing with the straw of her water.

He's really cute, even under florescent bulbs.  And she's hard pressed not to giggle as he glances around, trying to figure out how many other seats she passed up before picking this one.  

"Hi."  

Points to him for looking her in the eye.  "Hi.  Having a nice night?" she asks, trying not to smile.

"Yeah, actually.  Getting even better." 

* * *

Her name is Darcy, her ass is perfect and a hundred dollars is a serious underestimation of its worth.  With her left leg hooked over his shoulder while the other is wrapped around his waist, every thrust brings forth a soft 'oh  _fuck_ ' in that liquid sex voice from before.  

His name is Steve, he works for Moneybags Goatee doing art for this new app that he can't confirm or deny Google is about to acquire, so he's probably not as poor as she is and he's definitely not a virgin.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all I know about strip clubs is what I've seen on TV. And I watch a lot of murder mystery solvers, so the strippers are usually dead or leveraged but always clothed.


	18. Soon We'll Be Found - Sia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> healing!Steve x helpingthatalong!Darcy 
> 
> Apparently I've internalized Age of Ultron enough to write it more.
> 
> obli _gato_ ry cat fic.

So.  Iron Man is on hiatus while Tony deals with his issues.  Ditto Hulk and Bruce.  Hawkeye is off dealing with some super secret  _stuff_ and Black Widow is like... MIA in sympathy? and Thor... well, worrying about him is Jane's job, and Darcy will only do it part-time.  Wanda's got her grab bag of recently orphaned and experimented on and manipulated into almost causing the apocalypse traumas to pick through; Vision is literally less than a year old and aside from the circumstances of his creation, should be mostly trauma-free.  Steve has a whole plane-ful of problems he hasn't talked about since 1943 and Bucky has seventy years worth of  _shit_ to work on and Steve-and-Bucky together are maybe a little better but it's still a case of the blind leading the brainwashed.  

Really, all that's left is Sam and Colonel Rhodes.  And Rhodes, for all that he is a nice guy who is used to partying in his best friend's shadow, is too old and too _military_ for Darcy to be comfortable around.  Sam, though, Sam is awesome.

"How's it going, fellow normal person?"  Sam waves his butter knife at her.

"Therapy," she groans, sliding onto the stool next to him.  "Everyone here needs so much therapy, now  _I_ need therapy."

Sam offers her a piece of toast.

* * *

"I need an assemble order in the common room."

Steve looks down at Darcy, who is flushed and a little out of breath.  "Okay."

"Great, thanks.  See you in a few."  Darcy picks up the box at her feet and runs off.  All Steve gets is a glimpse of a blanket.

-

The cat stares at him with bright green eyes.  Steve stares right back.  Darcy snaps a picture.

Everyone else walks in and there's a second where Darcy can just  _feel_ them hit an error loading the page.

"I got you all a present," she announces, hefting the grey and white shorthair.  "This is Catherine.  She's a therapy cat.  You have no idea how much name-dropping I had to do to get her."

"Therapy cat."  Barnes is still working on things like 'inflection' and 'proper sentences' but Darcy gathers it's a question.

"Yup."  Darcy holds Catherine out to him and he takes her automatically.  "They train cats with the right attitude, as much as you can train a cat anyway, to be social and accepting of new faces and places.  Really it's a just a warm body that doesn't care how broken you are, it just wants to be loved."

Bucky has discovered the sweet spot under Catherine's chin with his thumb.  Catherine has discovered Bucky's metal fingers have all kinds of delightful edges and is rubbing her cheeks against them with a throaty purr.  Wanda brings a tentative hand up to scratch at Catherine's neck, for which Catherine bestows upon her even more access, rolling over in Bucky's arms.

Darcy takes another picture.  Sam, Steve and Rhodey all ask her to send it to them.

-

"So... what does one do with a therapy cat?" asks Steve.  

Darcy doesn't look up from the sudoku book she bought, twirling a bright orange pen in her fingers.  "Pretty much whatever you want.  Like some special needs kids will read to them because honey badger don't care if you stutter or can't pronounce supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

"They're known for reducing anxiety," says Sam, trying to find a crossword Vision hasn't already filled out.  "It's good for kids and the elderly, although clearly Darcy struck gold."  He smiles a little, watching Rhodey patiently waiting for a chance to introduce himself.  

"Encourages companionship and physical contact," recites Darcy.  "And you still have to take care of her because she needs you and that's just a fact, not some excuse or Hill-mandated-shrink ploy."

"And that," agrees Sam.

"Also," Darcy stage-whispers to Steve, "she used to be a show cat, so I thought you two could bond over being dressed up in silly outfits and put on display."

"Hmm."  Steve leans over her shoulder and puts a two down in the corner box. 

* * *

Darcy is making herself a midnight snack at 3 in the morning when Catherine strolls past, heading to her bed in the common area.  Steve follows, looking way too alert considering the time.

"The Winter Soldier finally let his captive go free?" Darcy asks, offering him the box of Frosted Flakes.

"Sam told him about this thing he built for his mom's cat, and Bucky and Wanda immediately decided Yekaterina needed an even better version.  They've been researching for hours and finally agreed on the design.  Rhodes kept bringing up the fact that he went to MIT with Tony Stark like it means something."

"It kind of does," Darcy informs him.  "He's an engineer.  Or he thinks mechanical genius is contagious.  Yekaterina?"

"Catherine in Russian.  Or whatever Slavic language they've bonded in.  They're going to the hardware store tomorrow.  I guess I'll make sure Rhodey is invited."

Darcy listens with a sleepy smile as Captain America tells her about how Buck said this and that and how nice it is that Wanda is finally loosening up around the military types and how Catherine herself spent the entire time burrowed in Vision's cape.  

Steve's bowl of cereal goes untouched.

-

Catherine is sitting in the doorway, observing the mess.  Steve winces every time a hammer hits, but he can't deny that building a cat tree has brought the Avengers together like nothing else.  Although he's the one stuck writing the report about the  _incident_ in the Home Depot.

Rhodey put a hundred different marks on all the pieces of sanded wood, which might be for nails or might be an elaborate connect-the-dots puzzle in case someone gets bored.  Wanda is levitating wood, rulers, sharpies and scissors to measure, mark and cut out appropriately sized squares of carpet.  Sam is wielding a level to no apparent purpose and questioning Rhodes' authority.

Bucky and Vision have easily solved the puzzle of the dots and are happily hammering away.  Steve's not sure, but he  _thinks_ Vision is using a subdued version of his energy powers to make the wood glue dry faster.

"I brought snacks for Earth's mightiest hero."  Darcy shakes a bag of cat treats and Catherine slinks against her leg, getting white hairs all over her black slacks.  "Or possibly villain."

"And what about Earth's second mightiest?"  Steve smiles.

Darcy looks at her phone clock.  "I can start pizzas now and maybe you won't get hungry enough to eat the glue."

Steve trails her back to the kitchen like a giant golden duckling to help.

* * *

Bucky is giving Wanda the self-defense treatment, apparently ignoring her witchy mind powers and the fact that she will never use a judo throw in her life.  Darcy is doing her stretches off to the side with Steve spotting her. 

"Elbows up, elbows down, mehmehmehmyeh" she mutters to her bent knee, spine creaking a little under Steve's careful hand.  "Stay strong, Maximoff!  First month is the hardest, second one is worse!" she calls out. 

"In Soviet Russia, the party throws you!" Barnes yells back, slowing Wanda's fall onto the mat.

"Did you just... Did he just?"  Darcy gapes at Steve.  Steve is a mix of happy, amused and wistful, as Wanda says something in Sokovian and Bucky answers in kind.  "What's wrong?" she asks softly.

"Nothing is wrong.  Everything is right, actually, I'm just... not used to seeing him like this.  It's not the kid I grew up with, but it's not the guy that tried to kill me or what was left after Wanda and Vision finished... cleaning up his brain.  I know where we stand, but I don't know what we _are_."

Darcy tucks her legs under her and nods understandingly.  "My last boss broke the fabric of time and space for a guy she knew all of three days.  She's still cutting holes in it, but for fun.  To borrow from Disney, you gotta find a new dream now."

" _Tangled_?"

"A plus, gold star.  I have taught you well, young padawan."  Darcy laughs and then grimaces as she discovers a sore muscle.  "You know if you ever need someone to talk to, anyone here will do that for you because we know you'd do it for us."

"I know.  Thanks."  Steve tucks a sweaty curl behind her ear.

* * *

“I’m your therapy cat.”  Darcy turns to Steve, horrified.  The actual therapy cat opens one eye but Steve hasn't stopped brushing so she closes it again.  “You are totally using me to overcome your many and varied issues.”

Steve opens his mouth to object but… he suffers the train into the city for silly things like overpriced cupcakes and one time because the Museum of Natural History revamped the _Dark Universe_ exhibition and Jane had her own little section and even though it was interesting in a dead-boring way, it was fun because Darcy was mouthing off quietly in the dark next to him.  He’s told her things he can’t find words for around Bucky or Sam, and he is more than a little addicted to being around her.

“I… maybe that’s true, but let’s call it something else.”  Steve pauses and then says very quietly, “how about girlfriend?”


	19. Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unserumed!Steve x kindofalmostnonotreallyokaywithit!Darcy

"You look like shit."  Darcy drops her bag in the chair.

Steve, hunched up and tiny in the hospital bed, sighs.

"Fixable?" she asks, settling down next to him.

"Maybe.  I was out for over an hour, so I have no idea what happened.  It seems more magic than science, and it's pissing Tony off."  Steve coughs a little, which turns into a full blown hacking fit.

Darcy pets Steve on the back.  She flinches when she feels the thin barrier of skin sliding over the delicate edge of his bones.

Steve turns and fits his mouth against hers.  She kisses him carefully.  Steve draws away a few seconds later and lets himself fall into the pillows with a frustrated huff.

"So what did the geniuses say?"

"Tony has my medical file.  I think it weighs as much as I do.  But verdict is it's some kind of spell tied to me personally, not something that counteracts the serum."

"How can you be sure?"  Darcy has a fleeting thought of Bruce commandeering the Eau de Evil for himself, and she has to bite back a smile at the mental picture of Hulk with a giant perfume bottle.

"Because whatever it is would be acting on the serum-molecules, not the Steve-molecules so the Steve would not have _broken_ conservation of mass.  And you'd be macking on a still-muscly stick-in-the-mud."  Tony waves a clipboard at Steve.  "Results on your bloodwork.  Nothing unnatural uh I mean... nothing inconsistent with your current state of health."

"So you were right."  

"Yeah, I'm about as happy as you are.  Magic means we have to outsource and I seriously don't like those mystical morons."  Thor strides in, looking grave.  "Except for you.  Advanced alien civilizations all the way."

"I believe the answer may be found in Asgard.  My... a strong illusion deceived the god of lies once, turning cold ice to warm flesh.  It was not just a trick of the eyes, the lie was so powerful it lasted over a thousand years with none the wiser; such a spell could have been laid on Steven, displacing his true body. But I shall need to-"

"Go for it.  But don't spend more than a week.  Can't afford both of us-" Steve coughs again and Darcy's stomach twists.

Thor nods sharply and leaves, giving her a hug on his way out.  

She and Steve turn to Tony, who is flipping through the very thick chart at the foot of the bed.  Darcy clears her throat.

Tony doesn't look up.  "He's under observation for the next fourteen hours.  Whatever you were thinking of can wait.  Good news, his clothes will  _finally_ fit."

* * *

"And you're okay with this?"  Jane stirs her strawberry milkshake pensively.

"Are you okay with Thor fucking off around the galaxy completely incommunicado?"  Darcy dips a fry in her shake.  "Shit like this was in the 'dating a superhero' entry packet.  It's been a day.  Ask me again in a month."

"What happens in a month?"

"I freak the fuck out."

Jane considers her chicken tenders.  "You do have kind of a delayed reaction when it comes to upsetting things," she agrees finally.

"I'm possibly a sociopath," Darcy admits cheerfully.  "That one quiz in high school said so.  So did Intern when I threw his shoes into a wormhole.  And I can't believe I actually get to say this, but 'so did your mom'.  I think.  She's got a very strong accent when she's angry."

"She was overreacting," mutters Jane to her chicken.

"No, you were underreacting.  Aliens invaded Greenwich.  A lot.  Running and screaming is the generally accepted response."  Mrs. Foster had been very hysterical upon learning her daughter was nearly squashed by an alien vessel because she was doing science.

"But we fixed it."  

"Yes, we did."  Darcy gives her a packet of ketchup, but doesn't take 'possibly a sociopath' off the table. 

* * *

Steve remembers being an invalid.  It was by turns hot or cold, but always tiring.  Modern medicine is pretty damn amazing though, even if the doctors now mutter about super-viruses and treatment resistant bugs instead of polio and white lung.  

He stretches and accidentally elbows Darcy's sleeping form.  He starts to apologize but she doesn't even stir.  He can't tell if it's because he's too weak to make his shiv-like elbow hurt or because she's sleeping too deeply to feel it.  She was up half the night, boiling pots of steam for him to breathe and stealing Gatorade and towels from the gym.

The clock says it's almost noon.  Even thinking about the run he missed makes his joints hurt.  Getting out of bed seems impossible.  There's half a bottle of purple Gatorade next to the clock and he sips that slowly while he considers Darcy.  Normally, 'sleeping in' means hours of something else entirely but this isn't bad.

The weight of his regard must be heavier than he is because Darcy's eyes flutter open.

"Mornin' handsome," she says with a yawn.

"Mornin' beautiful.  Sleep okay?"

"Better than.  You're much more comfortable now."  She drains the rest of his Gatorade.

"How's that?" Steve asks indulgently, willing to take whatever spin Darcy comes up with to distract him from the sad truth.

"It's not like sleeping with a steam engine anymore.  And we snuggle without you cutting off circulation to my everything.  So you know, pro column."

"I love you."  He wraps his arms around her, feeling the tightness behind his eyes loosen a little.

"Right back at you.  Let's call in sick."

Steve gives her a sardonic lift of his eyebrow and looks down at his chest.  

Darcy laughs through another yawn.  "It's a... never mind."  Darcy tugs her shirt off and throws it somewhere on the floor.  "We're not leaving bed unless one of us is actively dying.  Oh shit.  Um... how bad is that heart trouble?"

Steve has always known his limits.  He's ignored most of them whenever possible, but he did listen to the telltale twinges if only because Bucky would use whatever money he could find to undo the damage.

"Not actively dying.  But we'll have to take it easy," he says glumly, studying his birdlike wrists.

Darcy lowers her lashes and crawls forward, getting her arms behind her breasts for a little extra oomph.  "That's fine.  We'll just... get creative."

* * *

 

Three days later, Darcy locks herself in the bathroom and doesn't come out until long past dinner.

Steve is sitting next to the door with a box of Poptarts.  She rips into a proffered bag, uncaring of the crumbs flying everywhere, but doesn't say a word.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks softly, struggling to his feet.

"No!"  Her voice is hoarse and cracked. 

"Come on, Darce, you didn't walk into a relationship for _this_ , to be my nanny.  I'm not going to make you-"

"I'm Captain America's girlfriend, I can handle it."  Darcy crosses her arms, uncaring of the poptarts in her hand.

"But I'm not Captain America right now," he reminds her gently. 

Jarvis chimes lightly from the ceiling.  "Begging your pardon Captain Rogers, Miss Lewis, but Prince Thor has arrived.  A Doctor Strange with him."

-

Tony is scowling at Dr. Strange when Steve and Darcy arrive in the lab.  The amulet around Strange's neck glows, getting brighter as Steve approaches.  The light spills out into his hands and he makes a quick gesture.  The light cocoons around Steve before winking out of existence entirely, leaving one un-un-serumed supersoldier behind.

"Sure, it looks so easy when he does it," grouses Tony as Steve thanks Dr. Strange with a hearty handshake.  "I fucking hate magic."

Steve bounds over to her like a great big puppy, easily lifting her up and twirling her around.  Darcy hasn't decided how she feels yet; it seems silly to be upset about something that doesn't matter as of a minute ago, but it seems even worse to pretend they weren't just fighting.

"I love you," he tells her, pressing a kiss above her ear.

"Right back at you."  That part at least, is not up for discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as someone whose idiot boyfriend has been clean for ten months, taking care of someone is exhausting and stressful and can make the loving part of the equation hard to hold on to


	20. Safe and Sound - Capital Cities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5timessavingher!Steve + 1timesavinghim!Darcy

1.

It's  _possible_ she started it.

But really, the Hello Kitty sticker looked so perfect on Iron Man's ass.   _Newsweek_ certainly agreed.  Tony thought it was hilarious, but that didn't stop him from doing what he did best.  Escalate and exacerbate.

It starts with just her phone.  When she turns it off, it turns itself back on and joins Jane's in blaring _Iron Man_.  After an hour, all the devices in Darcy's vicinity start playing bursts of Black Sabbath at random intervals.  Jane probably doesn't notice.  Bruce gives her a _look_ and Darcy feels bad enough to just leave for the day.  She has to bury her phone and laptop under a pile of laundry in the closet that night, which means she has nothing to do in the half hour between lying down and falling asleep.  Nothing except plot revenge.

In the morning, she cleans out the sticker section of several stores.  She waits for Happy to bodily drag Tony into the elevator because he has a meeting with another Senate subcommittee.  Then she slaps stickers on every surface available to her.  Yoo spins futilely trying to look at the fruit and flowers on his chassis.  Butterfingers is the robot equivalent of snoring in his charging station and doesn't notice his new candy themed glory.  Dummy gets ten animal sidekicks and follows her around trying to get more. 

Jarvis, when given the option, chooses to have the door to the NY server bank covered in chili peppers and Hulks.

-

Steve and Clint are having some kind of weird competition to see who can eat the most leftovers without microwaving them today.  Darcy gags a little when Clint shoves a congealed glob of General's chicken into his face.  Natasha is sipping a ginormous frappuccino.  Darcy can't tell, but she suspects Widow is rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses.

"Late night?" she asks.

Steve nods, perusing the fridge for his next victim.  

Darcy opens the cabinet.  

Steve hears a slight click when the door passes forty five degrees and he yells a warning as he grabs Darcy.

Airhorns and silly string fill the silence.

Darcy, safe under Steve's chest, bursts out laughing.  "My hero," she coos.  Steve flushes red and scrambles off her.

Clint climbs back onto his chair and surveys the red and yellow mess covering half the kitchen.  "Aw, chicken, no."

"Looks less disgusting now."  Natasha picks up a silly-stringed banana from the fruitbowl with the barest tips of her fingers and gives it to him.  "Here."  She lifts her sunglasses to look at the booby trap, emptied cans still swinging on their robot arm.  "I need to make a call."

"Tell May I say hi."  Clint peels his banana and happily takes a bite.

-

No one questions how the llama appears in Tony's lab.

* * *

2.

Darcy contemplates the cell she was unceremoniously shoved into.  HYDRA, or whoever is subcontracting for HYDRA, hasn’t figured out that Erik’s magic science sticks were specifically built for the Convergence, so the whole dimension-hopping thing was easy _during the Convergence_ , like poking holes in paper that’s already wet.  She doesn't have the heart to tell the science goon those sticks are not going to be usable for interplanetary travel for another 4,999 years.  

Like really, if they were, Darcy would have teleported herself the hell out of Wales long before the kidnapping.  Jane is still railing about atmospheric data and how this whole episode has ruined her experiment.  Cloud-watching, honey.  It was cloud-watching and if a hipster with a timelapse camera can do it, it can't be called an experiment.

The guy threatening Jane had had a seriously strong Jersey accent and he kept looking at Science Goon like _he_ could make Jane understand she should shut up and do their bidding.  At that point, Darcy decided this had to be the worst kidnapping in the history of the world. 

They took the phones and laptops, but the Tony Stark benefits plan for friends, family and potential villain-bait includes more than free wifi.  

She spins the harmless-looking metal bracelet around her wrist.  It's vibranium; something something absorbs energy blah blah satellites doing science mumblemumble track the 'cold' spot from space accurate to ten square miles, at which point tracking switches to the Quinjet and then shit goes boom.  

The tl;dr version is: this particular villain lair is about to take a serious dive in property value.

Right on cue, the shouting starts.

Best bet is probably under the bed.  She eyes the narrow gap resignedly and sucks in her stomach before sliding under.

-

She's mentally tweaking her Productivity! playlist when the door flies off its hinges.  The door is followed closely by a body in grey tactical gear.   _He_ is followed by a familiar Frisbee of Freedom.  There's still shooting-noises, so Darcy stays under the bed, deciding whether she likes t.A.T.u. enough to keep them.

"Darcy?"

"Down here."  She's outgrown Russian synthpop.  Yeah.  Definitely feeling more Sinatra and Fitzgerald right now.

Steve hefts and throws the bed out into the hall.  She sits up, dusting her arms and tries to pretend she's not face-to-thighs-of-frickin'-marble with Captain America.

"Didya find Jane?"

"Nat's got her.  Come on."  He holds out a hand and she takes it with an overdramatic swoon that makes him laugh.  

* * *

3.

Darcy heaves a sigh.  Assface looks way too happy at what it does to her neckline.

She wonders how hard she'd have to stab him with a champagne flute for him to get the message.  She takes a big long _obvious_ look around the room.  Jane is with Dr. Prothro and the associate with too many consonants in his name.  Unfortunately they are too involved building something with the buffet.  Erik pops up, looking very nice in his new slacks.  He pulls a box of Tictacs from his pocket which then get added to the edible model of the perceivable universe.  

Darcy bites back another sigh.  This is her life now.

"Youwandans?"

Darcy turns in confusion.  

Steve blushes and clears his throat, giving Assface the patented America-is-disappointed-in-your-life-choices look.  "Do you want to dance?"  He jerks his thumb at the space in front of the band.  Natasha and Bruce are cutting it up and he seems more amused than anything else that she's leading.  Tony and Pepper are doing some Gomez and Morticia level shit even though Hawkeye is trying to throw peanuts up Iron Man's nose.

"Love to."  

-

Steve is a terrible dancer.  Mostly because he can't seem to connect music to movement.  No wonder he doesn't listen to music while running.  

They sway formlessly together around the edges of the floor, watching Clint and Natasha one-up Tony with an unnecessarily acrobatic quickstep.  

"Thanks for the rescue."  She lets her hand slide a little lower down his back playfully.

"Thanks for the dance."  His thumb strokes down her wrist and back, warm and wanting.

* * *

4.

"Do you have a quarter?"

Darcy turns her best puppy-dog eyes on Steve.  Steve frowns at the vending machine but reaches into his pocket and gives her a crisp dollar bill from his wallet.

"You're a lifesaver!" she cheers, getting up on her toes and kissing his cheek.  She lingers longer than probably is polite.

She lowers her heels back to the floor reluctantly.  Steve slings an arm around her waist and kisses her full on the lips.

She has no idea how long they stay like that, but she completely forgets about her cup noodle.

Someone coughs behind him.  They break apart guiltily.

Natasha gently herds them two feet to the left before producing a pair of hairpins and picking the lock on the vending machine.  She opens the door and takes all the Reese's peanut butter cups.  

Darcy darts in and grabs her noodles.  And a roll of Life Savers.  

Steve feeds the machine five dollars after they leave. 

* * *

5.

"Come on Jane, you don't want to disappoint  _America_."  Darcy kicks her fancy heels against her rolly chair.

"Good boyfriends understand working late," says Jane mercilessly.

Darcy wisely does not counter with 'good boyfriends generally stay _on-planet_ '.  

"Hi."

"Hi.  Evil Overlady says I can't go yet."  Darcy pouts at Jane's back.

"That's okay.  I can wait here."  Steve leans against her desk, which Jane has taken over with printouts and disk drives yet again.

- 

Jane lasts six minutes.

" _Fine_ , but you're getting all of this," she gestures to the cloud-watching from Norway, "done by tomorrow."

"Sure thing, love you boss."  Darcy drags Steve out of the lab as fast as she can.  "You just saved me five hours of clouds and granola bars.  Can you-"

"Texting Bruce.  He'll come get her in an hour."

"You're the best."  Darcy beams at him.

* * *

+1

It's so cold; the blizzard presses down on them, the snow falling so fast and thick it's like being trapped in ice.  The only light is from the blue bursts of energy being fired from the other end of the train car.  The eerie blue glow makes Bucky look dead, like Marley's ghost in  _A Christmas Carol_.  The one with Reginald Owen.  They saw it before Ma got sick.  

Bucky turns and he's weighed down with frozen chains, just like Marley.  Except it's not bank boxes it's the shield and then he's gone and the ice closes in and he can't breathe-

"Steve!"

Darcy has the sense to step back when he comes awake with a violent gasp.  He struggles out of the blankets, bringing his legs under him and breathing raggedly.  She holds a bottle of water out to him, but he ignores it and grabs her by the wrist.  The bottle falls to the floor, rolling under the bed.

She lets him pull her down, his hands roughly tracing her face, her shoulders, her hair.

"You okay?" she whispers in his neck.

"Getting there."  

He holds her until the sun creeps in through the window.


	21. Hooray for Hollywood - Doris Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> actor!Steve x behindthescenes!Darcy
> 
> playing fast and loose with what actually happens when making a movie because I deal in Science! not special effects.

“Captain America fights aliens.”  Steve looks up from the script.

“I’m gonna die again, aren’t I?”  James grabs Steve’s script to compare the thickness.  “Crap.”

"It just... seems like a jump from the last two movies.  Aliens?"  

"It'll be great, I promise," Phil assures him.

"At least you'll have both arms," mutters James.

* * *

Nick and Phil are looking over designs with the brunette who seems very concerned they aren't listening to _why_ she has done what she's done.  Steve waits by the door, opposite an amused-looking girl.  She glances at him and perks up.

"Oh wow, you're Steve Rogers.  Hi.  Darcy.  I work with Jane Foster."  She nods at the woman who is now waving an alien drawing in Nick Fury's face. She winces.  "I promise, all the dramatics will be worth it."

Steve makes a noncommittal noise.  Dramatics have never been worth it in his experience.

"Swear to god.  She won a boatload of awards for doing the alien princess in that super popular space epic.  She really _thinks_ about the science, like this one time, she and Coulson got into it over whether a species that lived in darkness since the beginning of time would even have eyes and he finally let her do her thing when he saw how perfectly  _creepy_ it was.  I heard," she whispers conspiratorially, "he respected that so much, she was the only person he wanted for this."

"Alright, I'm trusting you."  Steve gives her a Captain America worthy smile.

"No takebacks.  Ooh, I gotta go.  See you 'round."  Darcy hefts a folder, bits of fabric sticking out of its pages, and turns the knob.  Jane snatches the folder right out of her hands; Darcy rolls her eyes and gives Steve a grin over her shoulder before shutting the door.

* * *

Jane pokes gently at the molding gel around James' arm.  James waggles his eyebrows at her.

"Not exactly what I was hoping would happen when you told me to take my shirt off."  

"Don't even.  If I have to start over, I will do horrible things to you," she warns him.  

"You are really muscley," chirps Darcy from Steve's knee.  She slings her measuring tape around his calf, pinching it together with one hand and scribbling the numbers on a notepad with the other.  "Bring your leg up, please.  Hmm.  We might need to lose the outside pocket, thunder thighs."

"But where will I keep my shark repellent?" Steve teases.

"Holy sudden incapacitation, Batman, it's supposed to be the holster for your gun." Darcy scoots back to get a better look at him.  "Hands at your side.  We-ll... we could lower it... and use the red... Jane!  Can I-"

"In a minute, help me get this arm off!"

"Sorry, Rogers, I know how much fun you're having."  Darcy winks at him as she scrambles to her feet.  "You want the chainsaw or the fire ax, boss?"

* * *

The next time Steve sees Darcy, he's got lunch and she has a solid line of red paint across the bridge of her nose and she's stabbing a Poptart with a spoon.  Her hand flies up to her face when he sits down across from her.  

"Misadventures in spray painting.  This is why we have masks and goggles," she says, before he can comment.  She scoops the Poptart crumbs into her frozen yogurt.  

"Wasn't going to say anything," protests Steve.

"Meh, I've seen you in spanx, you're allowed to mock me a little."

"They're not-"

"They totally are.  At least you don't need to be vacuum-sealed into your costume.  That's literally what they had to do with Michelle Pfeiffer in _B_ _atman Returns_.  But  _god_ it looked amazing."

Darcy spends the next twenty minutes telling Steve about the things that blew her mind when she saw them even though she lives behind the curtain of Hollywood magic.  She declares the first _Captain America_ movie where he spends most of the time all tiny and shit as totally awesome, especially now that she's seen him in person.  And the suit was great, in a Silver Age of Comics way.

"It's my favorite," Steve agrees.  "I do like what Ms. Foster did with the new one," he adds diplomatically.  

"If anyone asks, your costume went on the same journey as you, bright and happy and not-bulletproof to the complete opposite after the plucky sidekick gets whacked and now it's bright but still armored.  Really though, the aliens are going to be grey so you needed to stand out during the fight scenes."

"I don't think anyone will ask."

"Then that's your daily fun fact."  Her phone buzzes and she flips it over to read the message while scraping the last of her yogurt into her mouth.  "Your stunt double was on fire.  Briefly.  No injuries except to the costume, so I'm out.  Later, Steve."

Steve watches her leave and decides he seen her back far too often.

* * *

Shooting is finished and while he's talked to her, he hasn't been able to ask Darcy for her number.  Not because Steve's afraid or anything, it just took this long to find out if she had a boyfriend already, if she was interested in anyone, how she felt about dating in the industry and what she liked to do when she wasn't undressing movie stars (no; no one comes to mind; it's easier they understand how shitty it gets I guess, but it's gotta be hard when schedules don't match up; and baking with her dog Baker).

He finds her at the wrap party, swapping stories with the set designer, who has threatened everyone and their brother with a hammer at least once.  He nearly trips on his jaw when she turns and he sees the front of the dress she's wearing.  

"Perks of having friends in wardrobe," she says when he finally manages to compliment her on it.  "Almost makes up for having to run with scissors every day."

Someone shoves him in the back.  Steve ends up banging his lips on the top of Darcy's head.  They both look and immediately flip James Barnes off.  

"So, what're doing for your next project?" she asks.

"Growing a beard."

She laughs and reaches up to run her thumb down his jaw.

-

He doesn't remember how they end up in a taxi together.  

Or when they started making out.

"Was wondering if I could get your number," he mumbles into her neck.  He can taste what's left of her perfume, which isn't great, but the noise she makes when he mouths at her skin very much is.

"Sure," she breathes, voice hitching.  "Ask me in the morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> building the arm: https://i.imgur.com/LZM2BhK.jpg


	22. How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful - Florence + The Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the _other_ soulmark trope   
> also the trope where Darcy gets into cars with strangers

Darcy had absolutely no problem accepting Steve had another soulmate, because everyone knew he was dead, and no one, least of all Steve, was expecting Captain America to wake up in the future and find another one.  

Honestly, she thought the words on her ankle meant Steve was going to die in glorious battle and be carted off to Valhalla and she’d find a nice normal guy and settle down somewhere that wasn’t ground zero for an alien invasion (like Kansas... actually, ew, never mind not Kansas) after a long  _long_ mourning period.

Steve wasn't okay with it, precisely, but he only ever just said  _ **you're his girl** _ had better treat his girl right.  Darcy would trace  _yeah you had him on the ropes_ across Steve's chest and promise to taze him in the face if he didn't.

* * *

The second they call Captain America a fugitive, Darcy collects on like, five favors and drives straight down to D.C. in Jane's van with a go-bag handpacked by Hawkeye himself.  She doesn't really breathe until she gets to Steve's building.  But it is _swarming_ with people.  Not even suits.  Guys in vests with guns.  She wisely does not take her foot off the gas pedal.  

She checks into a motel across town, under Elizabeth Bennett.  The lady behind the desk gives her a knowing look and asks after Mr. Darcy.  

"Mr. Darcy has some shit to sort out."

Ain't that the truth.

-

Mr. Darcy has a  _lot_ of shit to sort out.

When she's finally allowed to see him, he's still unconscious and Natasha waits outside while Darcy stares at Steve's unnecessarily accurate portrayal of a dead guy.  

"You rush a miracle, you get rotten miracles," Natasha says exactly one hour after Darcy sits down.

"Did you find any loose change?"  Darcy smooths a corner of the blanket before standing up.

"No reason to look.  He was only mostly dead.  Come on, we need to talk."

* * *

Darcy looks at the printed version of Steve's smile, directed at black-and-white-and-not-brainwashed Bucky, and moves to the next exhibit.  It was one thing to share Captain America with everyone who had fifteen bucks and an afternoon to spare, but now she's forfeiting the rest of Steve until...

James Buchanan Barnes is her other soulmate.  Or he's not.  She can't decide which is more terrifying.

She traces  _yeah you had him on the ropes_ where it's supposed to be on the life-size cutout of Captain America with her finger and yelps a little when someone grabs her by the wrist.

She turns, prepared to point out to the guard that considering how many kids were just drooling on this display, she's allowed to touch whatever she wants, but everything sticks in her throat.

Bucky Barnes glowers at her from under the bill of his stupid hat.  "You're  _his_ girl."  

The weight behind the words presses down and there's no way in hell it's not _him_ shackled around her leg and she laughs hysterically.  "Don't judge, I'm your girl too."

The grip on her wrists tightens.  Then he's dragging her, through a service door, down stairs, out the back entrance.  She manages to thumb the panic sequence on her phone (volume up twice, down twice and hold the middle) before being shoved into a tree.

"So um... soulmate, yes or no?  I seriously can't tell and I don't know how to feel about it."  

The Winter Soldier takes her bag and empties it on the ground.

"How long?"

"Uh... well I only really found out about the my-soulmate thing five minutes ago, I've known about you being Steve's since the beginning.  Mostly okay with it, not sure how the brainwashed assassin thing fits in our five year plan-"

He crushes her phone in his left hand.  "How. long."

"I don't know!  Depends on who's coming.  Widow's kinda on the run, Iron Man is in New York, Thor is off-planet, Captain America  _is in the hospital_ and SHIELD is a little busy right now!"

"We're going."

"I refuse to go anywhere until you give me my answer."  Darcy crosses her arms and wonders how dead she'd be if she dove for the taser.

The Winter Soldier tugs the waist of his jeans down an inch so she can see her own sloppy handwriting slashed into the skin above his hip bone.

"Okay, well, that answers two questions.  I am satisfied."

"Two?"

Darcy gives him a brilliantly wide smile.  "Yup.  Question 3: you prefer Bucky or James?"

Bucky grabs her keys and says, very quietly 'first one'.  

"I'm Darcy.  Question 4: are we running from SHIELD, HYDRA or Steve?"

Bucky walks away.  Darcy puts that down as 'all of the above'.

* * *

Steve wakes up to Motown.  

He smiles and turns over, saying "I like this better than-"

The smile falls when he sees Sam.

"She's fine."  Natasha holds out a cup of water.  "However she's kind of been kidnapped."

"How is that fine?" Steve demands, pushing up and peeling the sheets off his legs.

Sam gives him a card and a ripped envelope.  It has a fat pink cat on the front.  Inside, he finds achingly familiar purple writing.

> _archiving the following for posterity:_
> 
> _I love you_
> 
> **Heard you're not feline well.  Get better soon!**
> 
> _you're his girl/yeah you had him on the ropes and I are dealing with his shit, I have answered any questions you might have below_

Steve closes the card and swallows.  Natasha shakes the cup a little.  He takes it.

"She hit the panic button yesterday afternoon and then completely disappeared.  Until last night, when she apparently stopped by after hours to deliver the card and..." she gestures at her face.

Sam helpfully holds up his phone, displaying a picture of Steve sleeping, a bright red lip print on his forehead.

 

-

  1. _soulmates yes or no: yes_
  2. _boxers or briefs: commando ;)_
  3. _Bucky or James: Bucky_
  4. _why are we on the lam: too hard to explain, pass_
  5. _are we coming back: of course we are, I'm your girl and he's your everything else **to the end of the line**_




	23. Boum Boum - Enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> noble!Steve x sexpollened!Darcy
> 
> I was on vacation. It was delightful and relaxing (even though there is no cell reception in the mountains). 
> 
> So we're not going to go into princesses and their general inability to give consent.   
> magically/chemically induced consent != consent .'. don't do it

"You took out your first HYDRA agent.  Good job!"  Clint holds up a palm for a high-five.

Darcy looks at him then at her bright pink sling and uses her good hand to flip him off.  Clint shrugs and then pulls out a sharpie so he can sign the cast on her leg.

"You shouldn't've stayed in the lab.  There's an evacuation plan for a reason.  And you, don't encourage this."  Steve glowers.

"She's an honorary Avenger, she is contractually obligated to hate who we hate.  Usually it doesn't involve falling down stairs, but she handled herself and didn't break anything that can't be fixed.  Besides, _you_ literally chased a tank out of Tunisia and into another country not two days ago.  You don't get to judge."  Clint colors in the terrible looking dog (cat?) and offers the pen to Steve.  "You need anything, D?  Glass of water, cookie, robot sentry..."

"The only thing I need is you to go away."  Darcy settles deeper into the couch and pointedly turns her gaze to the TV.

Clint, used to people who prefer to lick their wounds in private, takes that at face value and leaves.  Steve though, Steve hears a familiar note of false bravado, a tension in her voice that says she doesn't want to be a burden more than she doesn't want to be alone.  And he hates the idea of her alone.  So he starts drawing a vine of flowers down the length of the cast as an excuse to stay.

"Do you want to watch Disney movies with me?" she asks finally.

"Sure.  Are you going to sing?"

"Stupid question, Steve.  It's like you don't even know me."

* * *

He does know her though.  He knows she's in the lab again, ninja-organizing paperwork while Bruce forcefeeds Jane real food.  This is a problem.

Steve ducks behind his shield and waits for a pause in the tinny staccato of bullets before surging forward.  Jarvis' voice is in his ear, a calm commentary informing everyone that the majority of hostiles are heading to Sir's lab.  

Steve spares a small prayer for Tony's robots and launches a chunk of building into the tail rotor of the aircraft spitting out gunmen.  It goes down in a satisfying blaze.  The few who make it through the broken windows get a faceful of vibranium and follow it.

"Agent Barton has secured Dr. Foster and Dr. Banner.  Ms. Lewis has requested a rescue on the ninety-second floor and that Captain America carry her like a princess."

Steve has to smile a little at that.  Then he remembers she still has a cast on her leg and she's not kidding.  "Jarvis, is the elevator shaft clear?  I'm taking the short way down."

The elevator shaft is not clear.  Steve goes anyway.

* * *

Darcy hugs her taser to her chest, uncaring of the twinge in her wrist, and hopes her wall o' crap is as bulletproof as the movies make it seem.  The worker bee drones in this lab can't do much beyond push a couple of pallets together and promise nothing inside is combustible.  Darcy isn't sure she trusts them considering Jane does the inventory and she can't label for shit, but it's better than nothing.  

She's considering how an escape slide would work for a hundred-story building when the elevator doors burst open.  Darcy's huddled under the desk so she doesn't really see what happens, but the end result is Steve crashing through her woefully inadequate defenses.  

He turns and empties his weapon into the open maw of the elevator bank and Darcy realizes two things: one, a taser is not effective against people with guns; and two, Captain America handling a weapon is the hottest thing she's ever seen and she's seen Thor naked.  

She hears glass crunching under Steve's pantysoakingly gorgeous ass in the sudden absence of shooting, and the acrid chemical smell stinging her eyes and nose does nothing to kill the need to put her hands on it.

A very, very small part of her notes that she will need to have  _words_ with the worker bees because okay, the pallets didn't explode or catch fire but _getting sex-pollened is not really better_.  

"Steve, we need-" to have violently fulfilling sex _right now._

He looks at her and his eyes are dark and his jaw is clenched and she just wants to lick it. 

"-to not be inhaling the fuck-me fumes," she manages to grit between her teeth.

He cocks his head a little to the left, listening to his earpiece, but he doesn't take his eyes off her and Darcy can't stop the shuddering sigh that escapes when she shifts her legs.   

"Copy that."  A few seconds of inaudible chatter later he stands.  "Iron Man is cleaning up the last of the hostiles.  Labs are secure.  So-"

"So we can fuck?" she asks hopefully, giving in to her lizard hindbrain.  "Because I have wanted you balls deep in me for months and it is literally killing me how sexable you are right now, so please _please_ say we can fuck."

There's a long pause where Darcy is absolutely certain the answer is yes.

"Darcy... we can't..."  

She maybe comes a little at how wrecked he sounds.

“We _could_ , but okay.  I respect your decision.  Except I also really hate you right now.”  She presses her hand between her thighs, reveling in the animal noise Steve makes.  “Not surprised, just disappointed.  You’re Captain America, you wouldn’t even think of taking advantage-”

“I’d think about it,” the words are heavy and heated and her fingers just move on their own, “I’m thinking about it right now, and I’ll be thinking about it long after this is wears off.  But I-”

“But you won’t.”

He reaches out but stops his hand before it actually touches her.  “We have sex,” he tells her, deliciously low and rough, “I don’t want it to be because we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

He breaks eye-contact to nod at something behind her.  One of the worker bees pops up with a first aid kit and a syringe which goes straight into her arm.  

"But we have sex eventually, right?" she asks, blurry overtaking horny.  She stays conscious long enough to be aware of Steve picking her up (like a princess) but if he answers, she doesn't hear it.

* * *

Darcy wakes knowing exactly where she is and whether her panties stayed on.  Another stamp on her MATURE ADULT card.  Three more and she gets a reduced interest rate on her mortgage.  She opens her eyes and the light sears her retinas hard enough to make her whine.

"Congrats, you're on the good drugs.  Again."

Darcy didn't even notice Jane because of the ginormous flower arrangement on the nightstand.  

"Those are from Steve," Jane says, not looking up from her book.  

Darcy stares at it for a long minute.  "Does it say if these are get-well-soon flowers or precursor-to-fucking flowers?"

Jane has to fight the plants for it, but she eventually hands Darcy a fat envelope with her name on the front.  "My guess is he wants you to get well soon so you can do the other thing."

* * *

Extra stuff!  Because I have strict editing processes, but the smutty has to go somewhere.

 

> The urge to succumb and just take Darcy on Jane's desk lessens once she's unconscious but the need remains with him. He imagines throwing her good leg over his shoulder and claiming her inch by sweet slick inch as he carries her over the wreckage. Steve's mind is full of tearing clothes and soft skin and the weight of her in his arms isn't helping. He thinks about that small hand as he climbs the stairs to the infirmary; he wants to see the glittery blue nails against her swollen flesh as she touches herself, desperately wants to feel her fingers around his dick, to have her worship him with candy apple red lips.
> 
> Darcy snorts a little when he half-trips over a body in the staircase and maybe it's because he's not breathing the 'fuck-me fumes' now but he wants to fall asleep on the couch to her explaining how a fox in a hat is handsome but being attracted to the singing lion is a problem again, as much as if not more than he wants to fuck her into those ridiculous Beauty and the Beast bedsheets.  
> 
> He brings her to Bruce, who has gotten the summary from Jarvis and is genuinely trying to contain his scientific curiosity (and laughter).  Steve drops a kiss on her forehead before relinquishing her to the good doctor.  He heads straight to the emergency shower and it's seconds before he's spilling the thoughts of her into his hands.


	24. Don't You (Forget About Me) - Simple Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oblivious!Steve x tryingtoohard!Darcy

"Come on, it's the same thing you make every other goddamn day, why are you going Decepticon now?"

The coffeemaker beeps while Darcy calls into question its parentage and rattles a mug in front of it angrily.  

"Fine," she tells the mutinous machine, "you're in timeout.  And if you think _I'm_ bad, wait till you see what happens when Jane finds you in the 'spare parts' box."

"Morning Miss Lewis.  Everything all right?"

"Oh, Captain Rogers!  I um, just keeping the troops in line."

She hides in the fridge, pulling out ingredients and chattering all the while.  She flits from topic to topic, nervously offering up her opinion on something she heard on NPR one minute and a compilation of cats being assholes video the next.  Steve stays quiet while he cooks his eggs and is only able to contribute when her verbal odyssey takes a detour into bank failure and economic collapse.  But even before that, she can tell he was actually listening, which is #1 on her list of what makes guys good boyfriend material.

The blender makes a noise, like it's clearing its throat, reminding Darcy to pour the greenish grey sludge into Stark's sippy cup.  The coffeemaker hisses steam when she approaches but ultimately surrenders when she reaches for the plug. 

-

"I think I'm in love," Darcy says dreamily, watching Captain America walk back into the elevator.  Seriously, he offered to help carry stuff and then just took everything for her.

Jane mutters something as she tears apart her breakfast sandwich.

"What's that, Jane?" asks Darcy loudly.  "You're _not_ shacking up with an alien you met under questionable circumstances and are in fact in a position to judge me?"

Jane picks at her bacon silently.

* * *

 Darcy is doing reconnaissance.  Clint is 'helping'.

"Quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach," he advises her.  "Though you could always take the shortcut through his-"

"Why are you even here?" she grouses, eyes tracking Steve as he sets up with his laptop.  He likes the windows.  Helps that the only glare on the screen is his own (yay for Stark tech). 

Clint shrugs.  "You're in my spot."

"Just because it has the best view of everything and the AC makes it hard to eavesdrop, it's _your_ spot?"

He raises an eyebrow.

Darcy glances at the knitted blanket she's sitting on, pronouncing 'archers do it with two hands and a shaft'.  "Oh, shove it up your ass, Hawkguy.  Where did you get this shit anyway?" 

"He made it."  Natasha drops onto the couch with a bowl of candy and throws her feet into Clint's lap.  "How's reconnoitering?"

"Darcy is watching Steve google himself.  It's both very sad and very entertaining."

* * *

"Are you wearing lipstick?"

"I'm always wearing lipstick, genius."

Jane stares. 

"Your hair is... sinusoidal."

Darcy picks up a loose curl and frowns at it.  "Not the adjective what I was going for."

"What-"

"Shh!" Darcy flaps a hand at Jane as she adjusts her decolletage, and sits up straighter in her chair.

Steve Rogers turns the corner.  "Hi.  Your lunch was delivered."

"Thanks!"  Darcy smiles brightly as she takes the styrofoam boxes.  "I _totally_ forgot."

"My pleasure."  Steve gives them a little salute before taking his leave.

Darcy pouts at his retreating figure.

Jane stares harder.

Darcy puts Jane's box in front of her.  "I got you a chicken wrap, eat it before it gets soggy."

"Are you using me to hit on Captain America?"

"Eat your wrap."

"Oh my god, you are.  _Why_?"

Darcy stabs at her salad.  "That is the stupidest thing to ever come out of your mouth, and and... I can't even decide what the second stupidest thing is."  

Steve Rogers doesn't notice Darcy Lewis.  He  _should_  remember what it feels like to have someone's eyes just slide right over you, but what can you do.  

She's not a genius or a soldier, and Steve probably hasn't been able to see civilians as people instead of 'potential casualties' since 1942.  Darcy gets that.  She hadn't thought of  _him_  as anything but a glorified action figure until yesterday.

* * *

"What the hell happened to my kitchen?"

"Uhh... cookie?"  Darcy holds up her baking tray like a shield.

Tony eyes the blackened smudges and pops one in his mouth.  "Eh, not bad."

"Really?" she asks hopefully.

"Practically pure carbon.  I could turn this into a diamond."

Darcy groans.  "I don't know what happened.  I followed all the directions."

"Directions are for pussies.  Why are you destroying my property at three in the morning anyway?"

"Minimizing casualties.  And witnesses," she mutters.  "Hey!  Put that down!" 

Tony closes the birthday card.  "Sooooo... fireworks for Steve, huh?  Can't say I blame you-"

Darcy throws the spatula at him.  "I don't have time for this.  We're almost out of butter."  

-

"You look like a pin-up girl."

Darcy preens.  "That's the idea."  

"Little over the top for Independence Day, isn't it?" asks Natasha, handing her another bobby pin.

"I'm celebrating guns, hot dogs and the American way.  Over the top is the only way to go."  

Natasha pats her on the head.  "You look very nice.  Steve won't know what hit him."

-

Steve doesn't know so much, he's not even at Stark's party.

Darcy ends up eating his cookies in her bed and brushing the crumbs out of her cleavage.  

* * *

"I give up."  Darcy pries another scoop of ice cream out of the carton.

"On salad?"  Jane frowns a little at the mountain of Rocky Road in her bowl.

"On everything.  We're just not meant to be."  

Natasha offers her the sprinkles.  "You don't know that."

"Right," Jane adds.  "Don't give up until he actually turns you down."

"Wow Jane, you're really good at this comforting thing," Darcy says stone-faced.  

"Fine, let's say your middle school battle plans did manage to get Steve to notice you.  What's step two?"

"I don't know, he tells me I'm cute and he likes me? I tell him he's cute and I like him and Peter Gabriel starts playing?"  Darcy sighs around a spoonful of ice cream.

Jane hides a laugh in her sundae and realizes Natasha is gone.  It takes another second for to realize why.  "Uh... I'm just going to take this back to my room."  Jane runs like a rogue hammer is chasing her.

Steve reaches for the vanilla.  "Hi."

Darcy chokes on her spoon.  "Hi.  So um... you're really cute."

Steve smiles.  "Thanks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic brought to you by 80s movies about teenagers


	25. Another Night - Real McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they hook up. it's not awkward.

"I was in a war," Steve mutters.  

He sounds pretty grumpy considering Darcy's got his dick in her mouth.  She flicks her tongue to bring him back into the moment.  Doesn't work.

"Just because you call it hookup 'culture' now, it's not like we never-"

"Steve."  Darcy draws back so her lips are a breath away from the wet head of his cock.  "If you want to whine about generation gaps and the nostalgia filter that's fine, but I don't have to be on my knees to hear it."  She brushes her thumb over the taut skin of his balls to make it clear it won't actually be 'fine'. 

He makes a zipping motion across his grin, so casually she nearly forgets he's ninety years old.  Darcy would say she's a bad influence on him, but apparently Steve is tired of hearing that.  Instead she drags her tongue up his length before wrapping her lips around him again.  

Steve muffles a groan into his shoulder as her fingers circle the base of his shaft and pull him deeper.  

Half an hour ago, Thor was introducing him to boilermakers, Clint was drowning his woes in vodka, Natasha was matching Clint shot-for-shot and Tony was telling Steve to avert his virginal eyes because that guy had a hand up some girl's extremely short skirt. 

Jane arrived with Darcy, Thor showed them this sparkly liqueur that reminded him of the night sky above Asgard.  Jane took a cautious sip and made a face, then Darcy started looking up cocktail recipes on her phone and the next thing Steve knew- Iron Man had bought the property, Hawkeye was climbing on the shelves collecting bottles to give Black Widow, who had shoved the shell-shocked bartender out of the way.

Steve tried a couple of her creations before Darcy decided she wanted to dance to heavily remixed Lady Gaga and needed him to come with her.  It's definitely not the kind of dancing he remembers sitting out on, but no one was paying any attention to them, so when Darcy, already pressed up against him because of the crowd, pushed even closer, Steve let his hand drift down her back to cup the curve of her derriere.

"Pretty sure now you have to marry her."  

Tony was gone long before he could come up with a satisfactory retort.  

Steve had clenched in frustration and Darcy made a soft 'oof' as his fingers dug into her ass.  It was surprise and lust and laughter and Steve _needed_ to taste it.  

She makes the same noise now when his hips jerk.  She looks up at him, smile curled around his cock, and sucks hard enough to drag a desperate 'fuck!' out of him.  She does it again and again until he pushes her away to lean heavily against the wall.  

"You coming?" she asks innocently, rocking back onto her heels.  She doesn't wait for an answer before gently taking his head back between her red lips.  

Steve will never admit to seeing fireworks when he climaxes, but he is seeing stars right now.  He can feel Darcy's throat working as she swallows hot spurts of his cum and he wonders how her pussy would feel.  

Darcy laps at his softening cock while Steve recovers his brain.  Her aching knees demand she wait a few minutes before getting up.  Alcohol demands she fill the silence before it gets awkward.  More awkward than giving an Avenger a blowjob in a bathroom now owned by Tony Stark.  

"Myth confirmed; Captain America tastes like apple pie and freedom."  

Oops.

Luckily, Steve is glassy-eyed and probably not paying attention, but better to cut and run while it's still quick, dirty and completely string-free.  

* * *

Literally nothing changes after that (except now maybe most of Darcy's playlists have the Divinyls' _I Touch Myself_ in them somewhere).  Steve gets teased about being an old man.  Steve whines that he's not.  Darcy puts up with it.

One of the techs tries to ask her out, but between the clearance levels and the Science! and all the aliens involved in her job, Darcy is a shitty girlfriend and she knows it, so she tries to let him down gently.  She does hint that she'd be up for a booty call, but apparently nerd vocabulary doesn't include synonyms for 'sex friends'.

Steve spends the entire encounter hiding behind a manila folder, and you have to feel for what'shisfacePaul because not only is the girl he likes turning him down, but also Captain America is witness to his manshame.  As soon as Paul makes his escape, Darcy yanks on the file Steve is 'reading'.

"I need to enter this data."

"Even I knew what you meant by 'keeping him in standby mode'," observes Steve, relinquishing her papers.

"So'd your momma."  Honestly, that might be the worst comeback she's ever made, but Steve gets this look on his face and then he leans over to whisper in her ear.

"If you're free tonight, I'd like to return the favor.  From the club," he adds, a blush warming his perfectly sculpted cheeks.

Darcy gapes.  Steve's flush deepens and she realizes that while Captain America would not outright tell her he'd stick his junk in her mouth if she left it open (like her boyfriend in college), he's  _totally_ thinking it.  And shit, now  _she's_ thinking about it.

"Jane, I'm taking my lunch break!"

Jane grunts something in response, not that it matters when there's a server room, a stairwell and a supply closet within easy reach.  They practically fall into the first door they come across which turns out to be the server room.  Steve wastes no time pushing her against a wall and yanking her jeans down.

His blunt fingers spread her open so his tongue can paint wet shapes on pink skin and Darcy blacks out for a second.  She tries to open her legs more but pants and  

"Shoes.  I need... ooh...shoes.  Shoes, then pants.  Steve!" she whines, yanking on his hair.  He huffs a laugh over her exposed flesh and lets her kick her shoes off before stripping her out of her jeans and slinging one leg over his shoulder.  The other dangles helplessly because Steve is too goddamn tall, even like this.  His hand caresses the back of her calf and guides her socked foot to rest on his knee before he trails it back up her leg and stops suddenly, finger pads resting just inside her entrance.  

"This isn't weird right?" he asks.  "Last time it was a bar, so I let myself..."

"You can't ask me this _after_ I come?" she snaps.  "Fine, it's not weird.  I don't want or have time for a relationship, and as much as I like you, I would hate being your girlfriend.  You come back covered in shit I don't even want to think about, when you come back at all, not that I can really complain because you're saving the world or helping your friend or whatever, but jesus you have  _so_ much baggage.  And  since it's from the 40s, that baggage doesn't come with wheels or retractable handles or anything that makes it easier to carry.  Ha, you like that?  I spent more time than I probably should have coming up with that metaphor, but Jane literally had me watching a box and writing down when the light turned on so what else was I going to do but contemplate you and your one-armed _raison d'etre_."

Darcy takes a steadying breath, which is of course when Steve thrusts two fingers all the way into her.  She chokes on whatever she was going to say next as he slowly turns his wrist, letting his knuckles drag over swollen flesh.

"You could have stopped after 'it's not weird'.  I just-" Steve adjusts her leg so he can lick at her clit, "I just don't want to leave someone waiting and regretting."

Darcy would say something about how she's waiting right now, but she can't form the words with him finger-fucking her against his mouth.  Her hands slip through his hair as she pulls his head closer, chasing the flicker of his tongue and the slick slide of his lips.  She can feel her orgasm rippling through her, her legs start shaking as her gasps become drawn-out moans.  Steve doesn't even pause, he just settles more of her weight onto his shoulder and keeps going.  Her body clenches hard around him and then the ripple becomes a flood.  Steve savors every drop as she grinds weakly on his face.

Steve glances at his watch.  "We still have time to get lunch."

Darcy peels herself off with effort.  "Ugh, I guess.  But I'm sick of Thai.  Waitress keeps messing up my order, just because she wants your coconuts in her curry."

Steve lets her use him as a crutch while she puts her pants back on and listens patiently while she complains about all the restaurants she can't go to because of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was a relationship-crossroads moment. time, effort and brainpower were required, leaving nothing for writing. luckily smut makes everything better.
> 
> if i could keep alcohol in the house, i'd totally buy a thing of Viniq just to look at it.


	26. I Believe in a Thing Called Love - The Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> secretboyfriend!Steve x jealous!Darcy  
> continuing the saga of Catherine. Kinda.
> 
> also, Anthony Mackie in his little unitard on Lip Sync Battle almost _almost_ made me stray from my eternal love JGL.  
>  He makes me happier than a seal with a grape.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPWs1QkK9k8

Darcy tells Jane, because Jane is her best friend and also dating an Avenger so she really doesn't have a choice.  Steve agrees but asks that she not introduce the subject of double-dates.

Jane is angrily penning a letter to the editor of some science magazine when Darcy informs her that she's dating Captain America and is leaving at 5:00 pm on the dot because they're going to dinner.  Jane doesn't even look up, she just suggests this Chinese place that served Thor in satisfactory proportions.

Steve, when he comes to collect her, is Clark Kenting it pretty hard.  He's got a baseball cap and ridiculously hipster glasses on.  Combined with a too-big hoodie that makes him seem slouchy and a pair of jeans that fit his thunderthighs but are practically falling off his hips, Steve has this incognito thing in the _bag_.  The problem, Darcy discovers, is that while no one thinks he's Captain America, they still think he's too good for her.  

You'd think Captain America's alter ego taking you to a diner (where the number of calories on his plate wouldn't make you feel bad about ordering a milkshake) would be the perfect first date.  Maybe it would be, if you came during the lunch rush when the waitresses are harried middle-aged ladies too busy taking orders and dropping off dishes to be looking at how tight your boyfriend's shirt is.  But apparently if you come at dinner time, you get college students of whatever gender eyeing you like you walked into the wrong classroom.  And you can't even tip badly because Steve insists on paying (not that you would because you're a firm believer in living wages for everyone, even snotty little twits who were sneaking pictures).

Still, a date with Steve Rogers is miles and away better than any other first date Darcy's had, even if it does take like an  _hour_ of stewing in sexual tension to drive out of the city back to the Avengers complex.

When they finally get home (after making out in the car for twenty minutes), they find Sam fixing himself a snack in the kitchen, totally rocking it to M.C. Hammer.  Darcy is not ashamed to admit she ogles.  Steve nudges her with his elbow.

"Really?"

"But dat ass!"

Said ass immediately stops shaking as Sam whirls around, stuttering over the lyrics.  He takes in the rumpled state of Steve's shirt, Darcy's smudged lipstick and their linked fingers.  "Huh.  About time," is all he says before stirring his macaroni.  Props to him, Sam goes right back to singing along with his ipod.

"Your ass is objectively nicer, but his ass has  _moves,_ " Darcy explains to Steve as he backs her into the elevator, hands at her waist.  

* * *

Any other day, this would be funny.  Fucking hilarious even.  It's a terrible picture.  It's blurry and grainy and all the 'enhance!' in the world couldn't fix that.  But it is definitely Steve glaring off the page, arm curled protectively around the long-haired figure hiding her face in his jacket.  The bold yellow letters proclaim Scarlet Witch is letting Captain America behind her Iron Curtain, which only kinda sorta makes sense my god why do we keep cutting education funding.  The cashier clears his throat; Darcy swipes her card and gathers up her tampons and TV dinners.

The sheer amount of stupid involved means she should not feel this way.  Seriously, she's not an idiot and poor Wanda, still wavering between mildly uncomfortable and working out how to be a superhero, doesn't deserve half the shit people say about her.  Darcy finds herself sidling up to her anyway to try and compare heights.  Wanda is disappointingly taller, and Darcy is wearing her nice boots.  Also, it's very difficult to sneak around a mind-reader, even if she is focused on re-creating her mother's pelmeni.

"Yasha is more likely-"

"Yasha is staying out of whatever this is," says Bucky, turning the page of a worn _Catch-22._  SAM WILSON is written along the yellowing edges in Sharpie.Catherine is snoozing curled up in his lap.  

"I actually think it would bother me less if they said Bucky and Steve were screwing."  Darcy thinks of her fanart folder, which, great, now Wanda knows about too. 

"My only love is Catherine," Bucky tells them from behind his book.  

"Too bad Catherine is a slut for salmon."

Catherine's ear twitches.

"These are pork."  Wanda pinches another one shut and reaches for the next bit of dough.

"Well I know at least three Avengers who will love you even if Catherine won't.  Jesus."  Darcy stares at the giant pile.

"It's less impressive when you remember she has telekinesis."  

A spoon mysteriously flings itself at Bucky's head.

* * *

Natasha interrupts their at-home date because he has to assemble.  Steve looks about ready to dump the pot of spaghetti on Natasha's head.

"More for me," Darcy jokes weakly.

Steve gives her an apologetic kiss on the cheek and rushes off.  

Darcy is stuck watching the news while Catherine licks her tail and bitching out the blonde businesswoman Captain America saves from a falling chunk of building under her breath.  

"Where are you putting your hands, you just narrowly avoided death by rock, you should be running away not groping a superhero.  Hey, don't stop, no waving!  That's right, move along.  Oh wow, that shit is ugly.  Where the hell did these things come from?"

Friday pipes up with "SHIELD field teams are reporting a dimensional tear in Central Park.  Dr. Foster is walking them through closing it."

"Good good.  That's good.  Friday, am I a bad girlfriend if I don't want to hang out and watch my boyfriend beat up the Alien Mutant Ninja Turtles?"

"Commander Rogers believes you are an excellent girlfriend."  Catherine's only contribution is to start slurping on her hindleg.

"I guess that's really all that matters."

-

"Fucking _seriously_?!" Darcy yelps, dropping the drink tray in her hands as she ducks down.  

Sam grabs her by the shoulder and starts running.  Two bullets whiz uncomfortably close.  "Honestly, I'm more upset by the lack of coffee than the appearance of HYDRA," he says, slowing to a stop behind a SHIELD van.  Then he turns down the volume on his earpiece which has been squawking at him.  "BTW Steve is not happy you're here."

"Well  _excuse_  me for wanting to bring my boyfriend... and friends... a postbrawl pick-me-up.  How was I supposed to know these assholes would show up?"

"They show up a lot," Sam reminds her.  Something explodes, and they both wince.  

"I bet you a new coffee that was Bucky."

"Hate to take more of your money, but it was your boyfriend.  He's been pissy all evening.  When I say go, you run to that alley and I'll cover you." 

Darcy gives him a little salute and readies herself.  This doesn't prepare her for Steve dropping out of the sky like a particularly acrobatic pigeon.  She takes a second to admire the view, because really, it never gets old.

"Hey handsome, you wouldn't happen to know who blew up the what'sit just now?  It is vitally important that you say Bucky."

"Wanda.  You shouldn't have come."  Steve hugs her anyway, and she doesn't even care that his utility belt is digging in her spleen.

"Yeah but this is more fun than eating spaghetti alone."  Darcy pulls on the chin strap of his helmet to bring him down for a kiss, uncaring of the bright flares of muzzle flash and cell phone cameras.


	27. Skyfall - Adele

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sad!Steve x secretagent!Darcy
> 
> I was on holiday and then out of the country for work and all the things all at once. I've been writing this one in my head for three weeks

All she tells Steve is that she works for a scientist researching the shit that went down in Manhattan and that she likes Chinese food but Thai is touch and go.

All he tells Darcy is that he works for the government and he'll eat anything she wants.

What Steve doesn't know is that the scientist is Jane Foster and Darcy only started doing it for SHIELD.

What Darcy doesn't knows is that Steve also works for SHIELD and Steve has kinda been doing this since before it was called SHIELD.  

This is true right up until Steve's guilty conscience makes him spill the red-white-and-blue beans.  It's not romantic or touching or anything.  They're outside the chewed up remains of a bar in Brooklyn (damaged in a fire, not a firefight), and there's still a slight smell of dead alien wafting across the bridge.  The three assholes groaning on the ground don't help much either.

"Listen Darcy, there's something you should know..."

-

Darcy listens.  Then she excuses herself.  Steve remains on the park bench, looking all sad and shit.  Darcy walks the mile to a dumpy little laundromat, finds the busted payphone inside and dials a number.

A brief exchange of pleasantries and passwords and then Darcy has to tell her boss that she's planning to knock boots with Captain America.  Tonight.  Her boss has to call a bunch of other people.  Darcy picks at her nail polish impatiently.  Finally she gets a grudging OK; the SHIELD fraternization policy is open-ended at best and Steve doesn't even  _know_ they're co-workers so Darcy has at least a month before HR or Nick Fury decides to kill her.  She can't think of a better way to spend that month than with her own personal action figure.

Steve is still on the bench when she gets back.  

 

She stops a few feet away, suddenly unwilling to be the second spunky agent (and the third spunky brunette) in Steve Rogers' life.  All the reasons why she shouldn't tell him her badge number well up so fast she can't figure out which ones are legit.  They certainly don't leave enough room for all the reasons she  _should_.  She compromises.

"I haven't been completely honest with you either," she says, perching on the edge of the bench, a foot away from Steve.  

She holds up her phone and shows him the selfie she took behind Hogun and Fandral while they were making their bruised way to the Bifrost site in New Mexico.  Steve knows enough about picture composition to realize the focus of this piece is the Asgardian... armor.  She swipes to the picture of her and Jane and Thor and Erik's thumb.

* * *

Darcy is juggling a Hot Pocket and a romance novel when her phone rings.  (SHIELD) Caller ID says WILSON, SAM and the area code is from D.C..  Darcy gets a bad feeling.

"Hello?"

"Darcy," she can hear relief and longing in Steve's voice. 

"Did you steal some poor man's phone to let me know you're about to do something stupid?"

"I asked to borrow it," Steve objects.  

"Note how you didn't disagree with the 'something stupid' part."

The silence at the other end is very telling.

"On a scale from 'burning the Pop-Tarts' and 'trying to open a transdimensional portal on the roof of your home so you don't need to commute for your readings', how stupid is the thing?"

"I'm not sure where 'burning down the intelligence agency my friends built in the 40s to save the world' falls.  Not to mention Bucky being... I don't know what to- I'm sorry, Darcy.  Go to Stark Tower and stay there until this is done.  I love you, I'll come back for you when I- I love you."  He hangs up, like he doesn't deserve to hear her say it back.

Darcy stares at her phone for a second before lunging for her computer.

-

Darcy does go to the Tower.  She uses her credit card at the sandwich shop across the street, where she knows the cashier steals the information to sell online.  She leaves her suitcase in the guestroom.  She uses the sandwiches to distract the scientists and stuffs her cellphone and laptop into the lab's glassware washer (because calling it a dishwasher was not scientific enough).  

But Darcy doesn't stay.  Darcy doesn't say goodbye or explain or apologize.  Darcy just... disappears.

Except she can't.  The next day, when SHIELD's closet skeletons are thrown into the light, she searches for her name.  It's there, all her lies, all her truths.  So she writes a bunch of emails and she explains and apologizes and says goodbye.  Steve's is the easiest actually.

> Hey Steve.  hail hydra!  
> 
> j/k.  seriously.  
> 
> It'd be better if I weren't, I guess.  Okay, not better, but it would hurt less.  If I'd been a secret Nazi, I wouldn't feel like i do, and you'd have a reeeeally good reason to dump me.  i've been explaining to everyone,but I don't want to explain to you.  For the same reason I never told you before.  
> 
> I wanted to be the girl you met, the normal weird girl with a stupid hat ,buying Star Wars coloring books and I was afraid what I was would make you hate who I am.  I'm sorry and I'll miss you, even though I don't deserve to.  Good luck with Bucky.  Dont waste your time with me.

She hits send and then pulls up a list of funny city names.  She chooses Normal, IL over Boring, OR and disappears for real this time.  

One thing about scientists.  You don't stop learning shit.  Like that the darcy is a unit of permeability.  She only has a general idea of what permeability is but it feels appropriate for what she's doing right now: flowing into the cracks.

* * *

Valerie 'Val' Halperin works at bakery/diner.  She wouldn't know the difference between a Nagant and neutron star.  The only things she knows about Captain America are that he's really hot and really old.  

Val crumbles like a day-old cookie, leaving Agent Lewis pointing an unregistered Glock at the man on her couch.  

Agent Lewis knows Captain America can be as annoying as he is hot and old.  

"I was planning to eat that," she growls, glancing at the empty tupperware box.

"Sorry.  I missed your cooking."  Steve's face says he missed a whole lot more than that.

Darcy chooses to take the bait.  "Well now you owe me dinner."

 

 


	28. It's Beginning to Get to Me - Snow Patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> combining the farm!fic with the break-up fic and one of my favorite songs ever

Which is worse, cute farm in Mumblemumble, Iowa vs. gutted car dealership in New Mexico?  

Darcy is leaning toward the farm, because this whole ‘off-the-grid’ thing the Barton family has going on means there’s no internet.  Yeah okay, they have dial up (shitty, shitty dial-up) that cuts out when the cow steps on the cable, but it is actively worse than no internet at all.  Ten minutes of half loaded pages and Darcy is quitting cold-turkey because the frustration is too great and the Hawkspawn would likely not appreciate her trying to smash their ancient CRT monitor with a wooden elephant.

Stark had taken one look at the thing and fallen onto the nearest couch in a dramatic swoon.  Then leapt up again with a yowl of pain because Tonka trucks.

The other thing about this place is that Steve is frolicking around like a happy flannel lamb, very much enjoying the 'Avengers return to Nature' shtick.  If it matters to him that she's here, he's super good at hiding it.  

-

She'd thought she was dating the easy one.  He stayed on planet. He wasn't an infamous playboy with widely publicized self-destructive tendencies. Or a spy who lived off lies and loaded guns. And she doesn't remember how the rumor got started that Banner can't have sex because he might Hulk out, but Bruce's pained face when he hears the whispers kinda suggests it's true and well... no.

Just no.

But dating Steve was much worse than pining slash lusting after him.  Dating Steve meant dealing with his weird hang-ups about 'the future', cancelled plans, unanswered texts, disagreements about money, and discovering that they didn't actually have anything in common between sex marathons.  

Seriously nothing.  On Jane's advice, she drew a Venn diagram, and the only things in the intersection were 'sex', 'pasta' and 'saving the world/not dying' (those are pretty much the same thing in this line of work).  Also 'vinyl', but that didn't count because Darcy just likes to pin the record sleeves to the wall and look at them, whereas Steve believed in playing the fuckers until the needle wore out.

-

Thinking about it, she should maybe not have requested best-friend-counsel in a location where $5 pitchers of sangria were in ready supply.  And she  _really_ shouldn't have challenged the engineers at the other table to Jeopardy! shots given the only category she knew with any confidence was Norse mythology, but she had been trying to distract herself from being depressed. 

Kind of like she is now.  

But the 80s sci-fi/romance novel she found under a table leg is not a good way to distract from the ex-boyfriend ripping logs in half right outside the window.  If she didn't know better, Darcy might think he was showing off.

"Have you talked to him since...?"  Natasha puts a cup of tea down on the table with a thunk.

"Nope.  Hadn't seen, heard or spoken to him.  Almost the same as pre-breakup actually."  She says the last bit a little louder, just in case Steve is listening.

Natasha sips her coffee unsympathetically.  How she manages to do this should be next on Jane Foster's _Unraveling the Mysteries of the Universe_.

"Not that you offering up SHIELD maidens to the altar of Steve's abs has caused me to distrust you, you understand, but I'm not drinking anything I haven't prepared for myself."

"You broke up with him in a very long text, that got turned into five texts and came in out of order."

" _After_ I called him ten times!"  

"You told him to fuck off when he called you back," Natasha reminds her.

"In my defense, it was three in the morning and I honestly don't remember answering the phone."  Darcy nudges the cup with her toes so she can read it (it has TEA-REX printed above the T-rex).  

"You said 'fuck off, Jake from State Farm' before hanging up.  I have to assume you turned the phone off or threw it somewhere because he couldn't get through after that."  Natasha's mouth tilts ever-so-slightly downward at the memory.  

"You were  _there?_ " 

"He called as soon as he got your message, so yes.  Me, a couple other agents, and ten war criminals all heard it."

Darcy smacks a palm to her forehead.  Then she realizes.  "Hey!  You don't get to make me feel bad about embarrassing Captain America in front of the prisoners.  And unless the rampaging robot Stark built in his basement somehow knows I have a hundred missed calls from Steve, this is _not_ Avengers business so you can take your traitor tea and shove it up your catsuit."  

Natasha blinks serenely.  "The rampaging robot has a clone army and all hell is about to break loose.  This might be the only time left for non-Avengers business."

Darcy debates mentioning that Black Widow's 'non-Avengers business' hasn't yet realized she's been hitting on him, but is saved from actually saying something that will get her stabbed by Jenga.  Lila runs in with the box and looks at Auntie Nat with big pleading eyes and yeah.  

Jenga for the next two hours.  Better than stabbing or feelings or sweaty shirtless Steve.

* * *

Science! doesn't care about rampaging robots when there's no light pollution.  Barton is more than happy to carry the telescope out into the field as long as Jane promises to share it with the kids.  Jane only agrees when Mrs. Barton holds up the picnic basket.

They're still trying to get a decent view of Saturn that includes the rings, so Darcy is off to the side just marveling at the clearness of the sky.  She doesn't realize she's shivering until a densely muscled arm pulls her against an equally muscled chest.

She tenses but doesn't push him away.  Not just because Steve's a fantastic heat source.  She's allowed to have one moment before the robot apocalypse.  

And if the world is still spinning tomorrow... Steve will be trying to save it and Darcy will be making pasta.  

 


	29. It Had To Be You - Harry Connick, Jr. (1989)/Isham Jones (1924)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adjusting!Steve x throwback!Darcy (+ wingman!Dummy)

Jarvis said Tony was in Dr. Foster's lab, helping her get situated, and they could use some assistance.  Steve assumes they need someone who can move the super computer an inch to the right... maybe two inches... actually let's move it to the other side of the lab.

He's not expecting a girl to come flying down the hallway, rubber soles squeaking and glasses askew and a fire extinguisher tucked under her arm.  She skids past him, banking to turn the corner and disappears down the corridor.  

A door opens and Steve can hear yelling and laughing.  Some kind of metal thing wheels forth from the lab and spins around once before shooting after the girl.  The robot is wearing a 'WELCOME!' banner like a beauty queen sash.  Steve braces himself and when the robot is close enough, he scoops it up.  It's heavier than the motorcycle.  Steve carries it back carefully.    

"Bad robot."  Stark scribbles 'I'm a menace to society' on the back of a packing slip and tapes it over the robot's camera.  "Steve!  Why are you... ah yes manual labor.  Well, that's Jane.  You've met Dummy.  Introductions out of the way so get to work, ya lazy bum."

"And the lady with fire extinguisher?"

"Oh right, Lovely Assistant."

"Darcy," Jane reminds him.  She glances at Steve and bites her lip.  "Do you think you could...?"  She points to a contraption still half-hidden in bubble wrap.

"Sure."  

"Ooh!  Lemme get the sensors, I want supersoldier biomechanics data." 

-

Darcy reappears an hour later bearing sandwiches.  She rewards Steve for his help by dropping a Baby Ruth in his lap.

Steve lights up.  "They still make- I haven't had one of these... in a really long time."

"They've been around since like forever."

"Since the 20s actually," he corrects with a smile. "Thank you."

"No problem.  Next time the Genius Brigade makes you lift stuff for them, I'll hook you up with a Kinder bar."

Darcy pulls out another Baby Ruth and tries to make Tony and Jane fight to the death over it.  

* * *

Steve is reading up on the McCarthy era.  It totally counts as 'reading' if they're _political_ cartoons, and Jarvis is a great help, pulling up the relevant events if need be.  Natasha also contributes a few choice comments from the other side of the Curtain.

It becomes a little difficult to concentrate when Tony starts clattering around the kitchen, conducting a weird symphony of blenders and juicers.

"Dude, your robot stole my iPod."  Darcy snatches the bag of avocados before Tony can reach for it and holds it away from him.

"Yeah, he does that.  He made off with Pepper's Blackberry once and suddenly we were offering iPhones and discounted data plans to any employee who worked remote more than 40% of the time.  Woz is just lucky I have no interest in getting into the smartphone game now, I mean look at this-" he pulls out a transparent rectangle and starts poking it "-tell me this is not sooo much better than the Apple flavored Kool-Aid."

Darcy doesn't even glance down.  "Think about how dumb the average person is, remember half of humanity is dumber than that and then tell me you want to give them a pocket-sized supercomputer.  I want my iPod back.  My birthday is coming up and I'm about to get  _all_ the giftcards."

Tony sighs.  "Fine.  Jarvis!  We're going to need a giant box, a stick and some string.  And a bigger boat.  Definitely going to need a bigger boat."

Steve decides this is more interesting than Hoover.  

-

Dummy is surprisingly canny for a 'half-baked AI in a fifth grade science project'.  

"Be vewy vewy quiet," Darcy mutters, peering around the corner ahead of Steve.  

"We're huntin' wabbits."  Steve does a surprisingly accurate Elmer Fudd.

Darcy forgets about her iPod and just goggles at him.

"What's up, doc?"  Unfortunately, his Bugs Bunny is absolutely terrible.  

Darcy giggles herself out of her stupor.  "Didn't think you had Saturday morning cartoons growing up."

Steve shakes his head.  Adjusting to how ubiquitous TVs were was one of the first things he had to do.  And the idea that every channel had its own programs...  "I didn't.  If it wasn't on the radio we had to go to the theater.  I think I bought a ticket to every Merrie Melodies there was.  A'course, I didn't always get to see the whole thing."

"Too busy macking on a girl?"  Darcy creeps forward a few feet, searching for her prey.

Steve thinks of how many dents his body put in the trash cans in the alley behind the theater.  "No such luck."

"Well after this, we'll catch up on all the ones you missed.  I can't wait to watch you watch 'What's Opera, Doc?'.  It's even in _color_."

* * *

 Steve is walking by the lab when he hears a thread of song that makes his heart pound and ache and stutter, like it used to when he had a fit.

" _Stars fading but I linger on dear_ "

Darcy is no Kate Smith, and the words spill out too fast and it's all wrong but it's so close to familiar...  

" _Still craving your kiss_ "

Steve remembers his mother showing him how she used to dance with his father, before her hands became thin and brittle and moving became impossible.  He remembers their old radio, the little buzz that would come and go but his mother would never get rid of it because Joseph's sister had bought it for them.

" _Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams_ \- what the hell, Dummy?!"

Dummy charges through the doors and rolls to a stop next to Steve.  It bounces a little on its wheels and beeps excitedly, delicately holding the fabric of Steve's shirt with its claw.  Steve follows the robot back into the lab, but can't interpret all the tugs and whirs and wiggling.

Darcy laughs as she pulls her headphones out and winds the cord around her hand.  "Dummy wants another piggy back ride.  You should charge admission."

Steve spends the rest of the day trying to think of something witty and flirtatious he could have said in response, but doesn't find a damn thing.

* * *

Darcy has started calling him Captain Celery.

It doesn't appear to be mean-spirited or a jab at him being boring or too straight-laced despite what Clint says.  Jane doesn't get it at all until Darcy looks up something on her phone and shows it to her.  Jane swipes a few times, then makes an understanding 'ohhhhh'.

Natasha lets out a short bark of laughter from behind them, then refuses to tell Clint what's funny.  Steve assumes it's some kind of slang but discreetly googling 'captain celery' only gets him a purple rabbit that encourages kids to eat healthy.

What _is_ surprising is that Pepper and Tony get the joke, though Tony finds it much funnier than Pepper does.  Bruce neither knows nor cares.

After a week of Clint demanding to know and everyone refusing to talk while Steve silently endures his confusion, Pepper takes pity on him and emails Steve a link with an online gallery of [Art Frahm's work](https://www.google.com/search?q=art+frahm+celery&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjt3e_7k57LAhWHuoMKHdi-Dx0Q_AUIBygB&biw=1092&bih=641).  Tony helpfully follows up with the UrbanDictionary entry for 'panty dropper'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> link added. the power of celery compels you!


	30. Shut Up and Dance - Walk the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> amuse bouches of leftover tropes
> 
> boyfriend and boardgames the last six months have made it difficult to write. but now I'm done!  
> saw Civil War. 400% Team Iron Man, even though it's not Team Pepper =\

Darcy kisses him first (by accident), a drugstore lipstick rosebud blooming on his bicep where she crashed into him.  She bites her tongue and her nose is sore for the next week, so Steve buys her a cerulean basset hound with mournful eyes and 'sorry you're blue' sewn on his tummy to apologize.

Steve kisses her a few months later (intentionally), after Darcy presents him with a written invitation.  Literally, she peels off a post-it with 'kiss me, stupid' written in orange highlighter and sticks it to her forehead.  Steve is used to kissing girls (sometimes it's on purpose, mostly they've taken him by surprise) but this one, where he's not about to head toward certain death, where a corner of paper tickles his eyebrow, where he can taste curiously strong mint, this one might be his favorite because he  _know_ _s_ he will get another.

Before that though, there's coffee, lunch, the library because Jane wanted heavy books, lunch again because a new place opened up across that street that smells really good every time she walks by.  There's dinner (they make it to dessert a whole two times without _something_ happening), the theater because Cinemark has those monthly showings of classic movies, the park where he spends an hour drawing her playing with dogs.  He's still working on the best way to ask her out dancing.

* * *

“This is exactly how I pictured it going,” Darcy sighs, attempting to scrub some of the cosmic-crap off her face.

Captain America, who is ducking behind the same piece of equipment she is, frowns.  “If you know something, you need to tell-”

“Okay, context.  I meant _Jane going all supervillain in her quest to open doors to other dimensions_ … totally called it.  This isn’t even the first time she’s been bodysnatched by an ancient alien something-or-other.”

“My money was on Tony.  Again,” Steve admits as a space tentacle flings a desk at Natasha.  "Can you remember what set this off?  What was the last thing she did?"

"Same thing she does every night, Pinky, MATH.  There was no reading of incantations or breaking of seals, just bright light and Jane forgetting to duck."  Darcy chokes up.

"Scarlet Witch is en route," Friday intones from the comm.  

"Copy.  Darcy, you gotta go."

"But Jane-"

Steve grabs her by the waist and leaps over the scanning electron microscope a second before War Machine crashes into it.

"Fine, but promise you'll get her back."  Darcy swipes at her leaking tears.

"I promise I will save your best friend."  He presses a kiss into her hair before pushing her toward the exit and raising his shield.

* * *

Jane is recovering under the watchful eyes and clicking tongue of Eir.  Wanda's hovering, the Foster-effect in full force (seriously, saving Jane is like rescuing a puppy, you feel  _responsible_ for her), also doesn't hurt that Eir was very impressed with how Wanda was able to contain the presence until the Asgardian cavalry arrived.

Thor 'gently' insisted on giving Darcy the tour of his home to get her out of the healers' way, followed by an hour of gawking at Steve sparring with Fandral and then a feast at Volstagg's pad.  Volstagg assures her that this meal is not a feast by any means, but Darcy is pretty sure goblets of mead and a platter of whole-roasted-animal is the definition of a FEAST.

-

Darcy comes to consciousness slowly, body deciding it approves of the whole bedding on furs thing.  She runs a hand through her hair and rediscovers the braids the kids had done for her.  She sits up to untangle them and finds herself looking at Steve, the little white flowers she picked still tucked in his collar.  

"Hot damn," is the first thing out of her mouth.  "Wakey wakey, hands off snakey," is the next.  She pokes Steve in the cheek.

"Darcy?"  

"Morning, Mrs. Lewis.  How are you not hungover?"

"Serum."  Steve yawns and then bites down abruptly.  "Wait what?"

"You got Saffron-ed," she informs him solemnly.  "I gave you flowers and that booze I didn't like, and remember our sad little attempt at swing dancing?  We're hitched."

She waits as Steve picks through all the pop culture people have introduced him to, petting the cat-like fur of their blanket.  The thing it came from must have been the size of a Hummer.

"I understood that reference," he says at last, inching closer.  "Special hell?"

"The specialest," she confirms, swooping in for a kiss.

* * *

He doesn't ask her to live with him.  She didn't ask to move in either.  

She _asked_ if she could stay the night because Thor and Jane were having epic noisy sex (completely understandable given the interplanetary hiatus plus the awkwardness of being a vessel for evil yet again).  She spent the weekend in Steve's arms, kissed him goodbye Monday morning and returned to her plaid palace to change before work and that was that.  

Except.  Jane was so tired, she went to bed after 18 hours like a normal human being instead of staying up for a three day Science bender.  The problem was, when Jane went to bed there was a Norse god in said bed and uh.  Yeah.

Darcy is kicking it with Captain America by 10:00.

Steve, thinking of Bucky's louder lady-loves, is sympathetic and certainly not complaining about her being in his home even while he's out on missions.  

She starts leaving hats and scarves in his room because all her knitwear is a fire hazard.

"Short version, static electricity is created by things rubbing against each other; balloons and sweaters, socks and carpet, Thor and Jane," she explains while Steve measures the wall for a hat rack.  "And now pretty much everything I own is electrocution waiting to happen.  My ipod won't hold charge any more.  It still works and I just downloaded a bunch of stuff, so I can't just throw it out-"

-

She's stopped going back to 'her' room after work.  Unless she needs something, she doesn't even think about it.  She wonders when exactly that happened.  Had to have been after the hat rack and before the French press.  It doesn't actually bother her, but she's kind of afraid she's bothering Steve.  She squares her shoulders, determined to talk to him about it right now, and turns the key.

It doesn't surprise her to walk in and hear soft jazz playing.  What is surprising is that the gramophone has been replaced by her ipod dock.  

She's  _supposed_ to ask Steve if this is okay, if they're ready to be 'this' (whatever this is) but instead she asks "Hey soldier, wanna dance?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus: Chris Evans' serial selfboobgrabbing  
> http://imgur.com/gallery/KTXE9


End file.
